Breaking One Down - Postal History Sunday

In case you had not noticed, we get five Sundays in the month of April this year, which means we have five different Postal History Sunday entries.  For the fifth time this month, I get to invite you to put on your fuzzy slippers, pour yourself a favorite beverage (and keep it away from your keyboard and any paper collectibles) and push those troubles aside for a while.

Yes, treat those troubles the same way a cat treats anything it finds on a table or other flat surface.  Push them right off the edge, watch them fall and then walk proudly away knowing your mission has been accomplished.

In this week's entry, we're going to break down a single cover, taking you through some of the questions I ask myself each time I encounter a postal artifact.

How Much Did It Cost to Mail?

The first thing we can do is simply take an inventory of all of the markings, writing and stamps on the cover itself.  Each thing can give us clues that tell parts of the overall story.  Because my initial interest in postal history started with an attraction to postage stamps, I will begin there... because we have to start somewhere. 

The postage stamp represents 40 centimes in postage paid to the Belgian post office.  The stamp design features King Leopold I and is a design that had been in use since 1849.*  In 1863, the perforations were added to make it easier for stamps to be separated from the sheet.  The stamp denomination (40 centimes) makes it a good guess that the rate might have been 40 centimes. The stamp was printed from 1863 to 1865, which makes it likely the cover was mailed during that period (which it was - 1864).

*for our purposes this is good enough.  For those who are stamp collectors, you might note that there are more distinctions we could make.

The postage rate between Belgium and France was 40 centimes per 10 grams based on a treaty agreed upon by these two countries.  This postage rate started April 1, 1858 and ran through December 31, 1865.  There was a discount to this rate if both the origin and destination were within a certain distance of the shared border between France and Belgium.  The other exception was a 60 centime rate per 10 grams for mail that was not prepaid and sent collect to the destination.

This particular cover did NOT qualify for the special border rate and it was fully prepaid. The "PD" represents "payée à destination," which translates to "paid to destination" and confirms that the post office recognized full payment.  

It is interesting to note that various postal agreements between countries had their own requirements to indicate prepayment.  Belgium and France tended to favor the "PD" markings.  The Netherlands, on the other hand, preferred to use the word "franco" which was often handwritten rather than stamped on the mail.

Where was it mailed and where was it supposed to go?

This is where we look at postmarks and the address panel on the cover.  I'll start by listing the markings:

Mons July 4, 1864 - 6S
Belg 5 - VALnes - 5,  July 5
Paris July 5 (on the back)

The Belgian Mons marking

Mons is a city in Belgian and is the location where this letter was mailed on July 4th.  Mons was identified as an exchange office in Belgium for mail going to (and from) France.  So, after this postmark was applied to the letter, the letter was placed into a mailbag with other letters bound for France.  

The French VALnes marking

The red marking is the French exchange marking and it was applied in Paris at the point when the mailbag was emptied.  This might seem a bit odd, because VALnes was a shortened version of Valenciennes, which is located near the border with Belgium and it certainly is NOT the same thing as Paris!

However, the 5's that can be found in the outer ring of the red marking actually tell us that the postal marking was applied in Paris.  But, they wanted to track that this letter crossed via the train crossing at Valenciennes - which explains why VALnes is there in the first place.

The Paris marking

The Paris postmark is the receiving marking for the Paris post office.  The recipient's address was in Paris, so this tells us the letter was prepared for delivery on July 5, only one day after it was mailed.  A carrier would have taken the folded letter to the street address shown on the front.

I realize that most of us don't walk around with maps of Europe (or anywhere else for that matter) in our heads.  Here is a map of Belgium that shows most of the border crossings and exchange offices in Belgium for the time.  I make no claims of completeness, but it can give you some ideas of what we're working with.

Please note, the bright red outline is Belgium's border.  The darker black lines represent active rail lines at the time.

If you look carefully, you will see that Mons is not situated very far from the border and also not very far from Valenciennes.  The actual border crossing into France for the route this letter took is at Quievrain. 

Mons was very much a junction point for many rail lines to various locations within Belgium and two border crossings that could be taken directly from the city (the other is Erquilinnes).  The train schedules often dictated which border crossing was used. 

Who Was It To?

I admit that I am more interested in the address at this point than I am the addressee.  Perhaps that is because I can't quite decipher the addressee's company name completely.  And I have to admit that, sometimes, you just don't feel the motivation to figure everything out.

4 Rue de la Vrilliere

The red circle would show the approximate location of this address.  The illustration is part of a colorized Turgot map from 1739.  So, clearly it is not a perfect representation for 1864, but I liked the three dimensional rendering to show the location.  The prominent feature in the area, the Place des Victoires, has a very interesting history, which is summarized well enough on the wiki.

This portion of an 1864 map of Paris - source of which I have carelessly misplaced for the time-being - shows the location reasonably well.  Rue de la Vrilliere is the diagonal street southwest of the Place des Victoires.  The royal gardens are just a bit further southwest and the Palais Royale is just south of that (near the Louvre).   The history of these sites alone can keep a person busy reading for some time.  I have only linked in wiki pages for this week.  Yes, I know, it's a bit of a shortcut, but some weeks I find that I run out of time.  We'll do better next week.

Who Was It From?

V Dessigny in Mons leaves a fair number of footprints in contemporary records.  If you wish to view any of these in a larger format, simply click on the image.

A Société Anonyme (SA) would be a general equivalent to a corporation in the United States, an Aktiengesellschaft (AG) in Germany or a Public Limited Company (PLC) in the United Kingdom.  This book, located via Google books, shows the record for V Dessigny in 1857, which shows a registration for a coal mining company in the Hainaut province, centered around Elouges, which is West of Mons (on the way to the Quievrain crossing).  Victorien Dessigny served as the 'banker' and an administrator for this concern at the time. 

And, here is another notification that shows V. Dessigny as the banker for the payment of dividends for another company.  While business transactions, of themselves, may not be very exciting - these clippings bring a person and his business further towards reality by showing real impacts on the world around them.

Victorien Dessigny was also involved in oversight of businesses in the Mons area, being assigned a spot on the Tribunal of Commerce in 1864.  A short monograph on the Industrial Revolution in the Mons area by Hubert Watelet mentions a Victorien Dessigny multiple times.  I suspect this was likely the father of the Victorien referenced by these other sources, but I cannot confirm that point at this time.

And there we go, a single cover broken down into most of its component parts.

Have a fine remainder of your day and a wonderful week to come!

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Postal History Sunday is published each week at both the Genuine Faux Farm blog and the GFF Postal History blog.  If you are interested in prior entries, you can view them, starting with the most recent, at this location. 

Windy Play List for April

The last Saturday of April is upon us and I have yet to share with you a music playlist for the month.  Since wind is often a feature of the weather conditions during the month (and this month has not been an exception, though it has been milder than last year's April), I thought we could come up with tunes around that theme.

Unlike some of my prior play lists, we're just going to go with a list and abstain from the extra commentary.  I hope you find a tune or two that you enjoy here. And, if you don't, find something you enjoy and take the time to really listen and appreciate!  Have a great day everyone.

Howling Wind by the Alarm

Oklahoma by the Call

Kite in a Tree by Charlie Peacock

Hurricane by the Choir

Storm Boy by Common Children

Come Sail Away by Dennis DeYoung/Styx

Dance (Blow it All Away) by House of Heroes

Dust in the Wind - Kansas

Chilly Winds - Kingston Trio

West Texas Winds - Needtobreathe

Dry Up and Blow Way - NRBQ 

And, of course, the list went to eleven, as it usually does in this blog.

Seeds for Thought

If you want to become astonished by how quickly things can change, I suggest you plant some seeds.  Now, I'll grant you that it just might seem like FOREVER before the seedling breaks the surface of the soil.  And, their journey from that point to the first true leaves can feel painstakingly slow.  But, that's only because you (and everyone else who plants seeds) are breaking the "watched pot" rule.

You know the rule - a watched pot never boils.  

We're so invested in seeing immediate rewards for the efforts we made to plant the seed in the first place that we keep checking the progress at unreasonably short intervals of time.  After things get going, we tend to lose our obsessive behavior and our interest gets pulled elsewhere.

That's when seedlings sneak up on you.

Suddenly, they're asking you to get them some fertilizer or put them in a bigger pot.  Or, better yet, into the ground.   You get surprised when you look at them, then at their "baby pictures" and you wonder where your cute little buddies went.

Ok, it is true, the plants are still pretty small and they have a long way to go yet.  Still, the onion plants no longer look like they do in these pictures.  It's a good thing, of course.  But it can still be a bit alarming.  

Suddenly, I am realizing I need to start getting an area ready for the onions to go into the ground.  And they're not the only ones clamoring for attention.  Soon, they'll be at a stage where they can't stop asking questions.  Once you get to that point, there will be no rest for the weary.

It's almost enough for us to wish for their "teen-age" stage, where they wish you would just leave them alone in their room.

I Don't Think It Means What You Think It Means

The tailgate on Chumley has a 'boo-boo' - UNPRECENDENTED!

How many times have you heard someone talk about how these times, ever since the Covid-19 pandemic started, are "unprecedented?"  They keep using that word, but I don't think it means what they think it means.

Ok, so the Oxford dictionary says 'unprecedented' means 'never done or known before.'  So technically, we might be correct in saying this sort of damage to the farm pickup is unprecedented.  Well, actually it's not.  There have been a couple of other farm 'dings' because that is what happens with a farm truck.  By the way, I was not happy at all that this happened.  The how of it will be for another time.

Unprecedented stack of things in the Truck Barn...

Ok, the stack of things to be cleaned or put away in the Truck Barn is not something that had never happened before.  BUT, I bet these specific items have never been stacked or placed EXACTLY like this before.  That must mean it is unprecedented.  Wow!  I can make anything sound impressive if I use that interpretation of the word.

Soup has never rolled around between this ladder and building before...

Part of what I am getting at is that we all have a tendency to co-opt words that are bigger or grander to try to make something sound more impressive.  'Unprecedented' is just such a word.  It's a longer word with more sylla-bobbles - so if you use it, you must be intelligent, right? 

The chickens have never... oh, wait.  They have.  Never mind.

The upshot of all of my belly-aching about a single word is that 'unprecedented' has been thrown around a good bit for several years for all kinds of things.  I notice that we seem willing to misuse 'unprecedented,' but we balk at the phrase 'without precedent.'  Folks... they are one and the same.

Case in point.  "These are unprecedented times with the Covid-19 pandemic, quarantines, shelter-in-place, etc."

But, this was not without precedent.  And many of the people that used 'unprecedented' for the current times would, in the same conversation, refer to the 1918 flu epidemic.  By default, they already knew that there was a precedent.  Huh?  Perhaps we're using the word 'unprecedented' as an excuse for our failure not to look critically at prior pandemics and learn from them?  Hmmmmm.

This fence is falling down.  Unprecedented - for this fence.

So, here we are.  It is true.  The event of this particular fence falling down is unprecedented.  It has not fallen down before.  But, I am aware of many other fences that have fallen.   Soup the cat has never rolled around next to that ladder, so it is unprecedented for that specific arrangement.

But, these all miss the point that 'unprecedented' implies a certain enormity that is lost when we over-use it.  Perhaps these ARE exceptional times, but probably not unprecedented.  

But, that fence... unprecedented, I tell you! 

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This blog is a throwback Thursday blog that was originally posted in April of 2020.  While most of us have moved on from the pandemic, we still seem to be overly found of the word "unprecedented."   

And, just so you know.  I edited the old blog a bit to update it a bit.  Surely that must be unprecedented?  No?  I guess I'd better check the definition again.

Flurry, Snow Squall, or Just Annoying

It was the end of the day on Friday and everyone in the Genuine Faux Farm household was feeling tired.  And, by everyone, I mean Rob and Tammy.  Bree was simply happy that the humans were sitting still so that she could perch herself on a human's lap.  We were indulging in watching a video after eating dinner and I found that I was a bit trapped with Tammy laying down and putting feet in my lap and Bree sitting on Tammy's feet.

I happened to look out the window and I saw this squall line to our west.  We have certainly seen these before in prior years, so it wasn't entirely new.  But, they can be pretty dramatic - especially if the sun is pretty low in the western sky and it gets blocked by the rapidly moving flurry of snow.  It looks pretty surreal when sunbeams peak through a few cracks in the wall of clouds and snow.

But, I was stuck, so there wasn't going to be a chance to take a picture.  And that's fine.

Once the clouds got to us there was a few solid minutes of horizontal snow that rapidly covered surfaces and made little "ticking" sounds as individual flakes hit the window pane.  Once the show was over and Bree and Tammy were willing to move, I got up and recorded a picture or two.

I think many (but not all) who live in Iowa might agree that snow is actually welcome to cover some of the bleak winter landscape.  But, in my mind, it is a whole different matter when the grass has greened up as much as ours has over the last couple of weeks.  The contrast was actually quite beautiful to see between the rich green color and the fresh white snowfall.

But, I am not sure the snow, despite the fact that it would melt quickly, was really all that welcome this time around.  Most of the time, I find that I am pretty philosophical about snowfall in April.  It happens and you need to expect it to happen.  But for some reason I have been annoyed by the recent cool weather and snow.

Thinking about it, I have been annoyed when we've had nice weather days lately too because I haven't been able to get out and enjoy them.  Maybe it's not the weather, it's just me.

I'm even tempered - always annoyed.

Aurora Borealis

Both Tammy and I have had the good fortune that we have each seen the Northern Lights (aurora borealis) multiple times in our lifetimes.  In fact, we have had the opportunity to view them multiple times during our tenure as stewards at the Genuine Faux Farm.

It takes a pretty strong showing for the lights to make an appearance in Iowa, and when it does, it often does not reveal dramatic movement or color to the casual observer.  In fact, it often seems to be only slightly more dramatic than the glow of a town's or city's street lights reflecting off of the bottoms of low cloud cover.  And, of course, seeing the Northern Lights can become even more difficult for those who are not fortunate enough to live in the country, where there are fewer lights (though there are getting to be too many, in my opinion - fodder for a future blog).

Sunday night's show started out to be a lot like many of the other shows we have viewed over time.

You can actually see some of the glow on the horizon from the town of Fredericka, which lies directly to the north of our farm.  This picture does not represent what we were seeing at about 10:30 pm with our eyes because the camera actually sees differently than humans do at night.  If you want to learn more about that, I suggest this article.  The key is that the cells that make up most of our night vision only see black, white and shades of gray.  Typically, when we see Northern Lights in Iowa, they are not bright enough for our eyes to use the cells that see color.

Our cameras, on the other hand, don't have the same limitation, so they can record those colors for us to see later.

In any event, Sunday's show started as many of our previous viewings have gone.  Fairly low on the horizon and only a hint of a greenish color to our naked eye.  We even hopped in the car to see if a different location provided us with a better view (it was nice, but didn't change things much).

We actually thought the image above was going to be the peak showing for this session.  It's neat.  But, I do have to admit that I was probably a bit more annoyed by my failure to get our better camera to work and I was tired - so I didn't enjoy it as much as I probably should have.

It was after 11 pm when we were trying to shut it all down for the night and I recognized that my phone was missing (my inability to track certain objects over the past week could be another blog). This, of course, was doing nothing for my mood - though I really must admit that I was letting little things have too much power over how I felt.

The search actually led me to go outside to see if it was in a vehicle - and I looked up to find the aurora borealis pulsing.  And my limited human eyes saw colors.

Thank goodness for my absent-minded misplacement of the phone.

This is the most spectacular viewing of the Northern Lights that I have witnessed in my life (and certainly for our time on the farm).  Despite having grown up in Minnesota, Tammy couldn't recall a better showing either.

These lights are created when energized particles from the sun strike our planet's magnetic field at forty-five MILLION miles per hour.  Our Earth and its magnetic field redirects these particles to the polar regions, which results in a light show we can enjoy if we're looking at the right time.  If we are so inclined we can wrangle our cameras or camera phones and take pictures to see the colors better and share with our friends and family via various electronic communications.  Now, that's entertainment.

But I think I had an even deeper appreciation for Sunday's event when I considered the reason for their appearance.  What we were seeing is evidence that our planet has a security system that protects the life forms that call Earth home.  Just another reason why I feel motivation to do what I can to uphold my responsibility to protect and care for this Earth.

Hey there, Mother Earth, thanks for the protective actions.  I just hope I can be even a tiny bit effective in my efforts to protect you, because this force field that deflects the solar waves sure is impressive.  I'm not sure how to measure up to that - but I sure will give it a shot.

Mythology: The Open Spot in the Calendar

 

I have a confession to make, I still like to use a datebook/organizer to keep track of my schedule.  Unfortunately, my job for Pesticide Action Network also requires that I use an online calendar tool that my co-workers can view... and add to... when needed.  I find myself going back and forth between the two calendars because, frankly, it doesn't make sense to put my farming calendar into the online calendar.  I don't think they need to know that I intend to plant some more seeds into trays this weekend - for example.

The farm calendar is different in that it doesn't fill up specific parts of the day.  It's more like a list of things that needs to get done (and they all take time).  Some are a bit more time specific, like morning chores.  The seed trays, on the other hand, happen when I get to them.

Even before I added the PAN job to my life, I had a tendency - just like many who read this blog - to see an open date or open time slot as just that .... OPEN.  In other words, if a person called me and said, "Hey Rob, could we meet about X on such and such a date at Y time?"  I would look at my calendar.  If nothing was written there, my answer was typically "yes."

If I wasn't thinking very hard about it.

After all, the calendar SAYS I have nothing scheduled for that time, which means I was going to be doing NOTHING at that time.  Right?

This is how I get into trouble.  When I was teaching, it always seemed like the dentist or doctor would suggest a time during finals week.  Of course, the suggestion would come weeks prior to finals and I would look at my calendar and see...

AN OPEN SPOT

So, of course, I would agree to put that appointment into that open spot.  This happens because I have selective amnesia when it comes to some of the busiest and most stressful times of year.  Perhaps there is a small voice in the back of my mind that is yelling in its tiny voice, "NO! Not then!"  But, the open spot on the calendar causes the rest of the crowd to roar in appreciation of the fact that a mutual time has been located and agreed upon.  That poor little voice knows better, but how can it get the attention of the decision making process when that process is too busy acknowledging the applause? 

OPEN SPOT... OPEN SPOT... OPEN SPOT... YAY!

The Open Spot Syndrome was bad enough when I was the sole person in charge of determining how (and whether or not) these spots would be used.  But now more and more of us are putting our calendars online to make scheduling "easier." With a few clicks we can load up multiple calendars and search for open spots.  Once we find a likely candidate, we can fill that open slot with an "invitation" to participate in something during that slot.

Even if you are listening to the little voice, it has gotten a whole lot harder to protect the mythical and magical open spot.  And, if you are like me, and you were already handicapped when it came to protecting these open spots, you can see where the open spot becomes more myth than reality.

The reality for me is that my schedule is not nearly as packed as I make it sound.  Tammy, for example, routinely has far more on her schedule than I do.  But, in addition to the scheduled items on our calendars, we have extensive "to do" lists or Very Ambitious Plans (VAP) full of things for each day that were supposed to be completed.  The time to complete them is supposed to be in these open spots in our calendars.

Yes, the very same spots we so happily fill as the crowd roars its approval and the little voice in the back holds its head in its hands.

Validating a Dispensation - Postal History Sunday

Welcome to the 140th edition of Postal History Sunday, a project I have undertaken to share something I enjoy with anyone who has interest.  I attempt to write in a fashion that is accessible to a broad audience, including those who already appreciate this hobby as well as those who are simply a tiny bit curious about such things.

This week's entry was inspired by the folded letter written in 1854 that is shown below:

The letter is addressed to "Au tres Revd Mr. F Lhomme, Grand Vicaire et Sup. du Seminaire de Baltimore" which would be equivalent with "to the very Reverend Mister F Lhomme, Vicar General and Superior of the Seminary of Baltimore." The writing is crammed into every square inch of the paper that would not show on the exterior wrapper portion that included the address and postage.  And interesting enough, the letter is written in a hand that is fairly easy to read in English, despite the address panel on the front being in French.

What is a folded letter?

I unfolded the letter so I could scan one side and give you an idea of what it looks like.  When properly folded, the outside surfaces include the address panel and then two flaps that were sealed shut with a wax seal (the red area).  This paper is actually folded one more time, making it too large for me to fit on the scanner.  What you see above is actually about 7 inches wide by 10 inches tall.  When fully unfolded, the paper is about 14" x 10".

Another surface can be seen below, illustrating how diligent the writer was in using the free space for content.

Envelopes are, of course, another form of "wrapper" that is used to keep personal correspondence - well - personal.  They were not as widely used to send mail as the folded letter was in 1854.  You can certainly see the attraction to not also having to have a pile of envelopes nearby in addition to the writing paper. 

I suspect there might be some who could easily be confounded in trying to figure out how to properly write on and then fold a letter such as this one.  In the present day, if you wanted some help with figuring out the folds, you could go to this short article at the Smithsonian's website or this one provided on the Library and Archives Preservation blog at Iowa State University's library.

Why do I suddenly have an urge to write a letter and try this out?

That's a bunch of stamps on that letter!

There are five postage stamps to pay the postage for this letter representing a total of 38 bajocchi (the currency in the Papal State in 1854).  The postage paid was enough to get the letter to travel overland through Tuscany and Sardinia to France, then to England, and to pay for the British ship that would cross the Atlantic.  However, once the letter touched the soil in the United States, US Post Office services were unpaid.  So, the recipient would have to pay an additional 5 cents to receive the letter.

It turns out that the writer of the letter could not prepay ALL of the postage for a letter sent from Rome to the United States in 1854.  There was no agreement to exchange mail between the two postal entities.  That meant a series of OTHER agreements had to be used to get the letter from here to there.

In 1853, the Papal States and France signed a treaty that set a postal convention between them.  The problem with that is that France and the United States did NOT have a postal agreement either.  So, the French used their postal agreement with the United Kingdom to get their mail to the United States.  But, none of this provided any arrangement for full prepayment for letters between Rome and the US.

Did you get that?  It's all as clear as mud, right?  Rome used their agreement with France to access France's agreement with the UK to get this letter to the border of the United States.  Simple?  No.  But, if it were simple it might not be so interesting to study.

The French did sign a treaty with the United States in 1857 and a new convention with the Papal State in 1858.  This provided an option to prepay the mail all the way to the destination between the US and Rome.

Here is an example of the new 32 bajocchi rate for postage to the United States that fully prepaid all the required postage.  This letter was mailed in 1861 and got to France by boat, rather than overland.  At this point in history, the Papal territory (and Pope Pius IX) was not willing to work with the Kingdom of Italy, so mail had to go around, rather than through the rest of Italy to get to France.

The other interesting thing to note is that this letter was mailed in an envelope.  The pre-made envelope started gaining use in the 1840s, but by the 1860s it seems they were really taking hold, based on my own observations of surviving covers from that time.  If you would like to read more about the movement from folded letters to envelopes, you might enjoy this article from the Smithsonian Magazine.

Now, let's move on to the social history that makes up another part of the story for our first letter.

Who was the Reverend F. Lhomme?

image plate after p 58 in Memorial Volume...

The Very Reverend Francois Lhomme (Nov 13, 1794 - Oct 27, 1860) had served as a Professor from 1827 to 1850 and then as the Superior at St Mary's Seminary of St Sulpice until his death.  According to the Memorial Volume of the Centenary of St Mary's Seminary of Saint Sulpice 1791 - 1891, Lhomme served as the primary educator for the Greek language prior to becoming Superior in 1850.

Sulpicians were (and are) an order, originating in France, dedicated to the education of members of the Roman Catholic Church's priesthood. The French Revolution in the late 1700s was not friendly to the Catholics and many Sulpicians emigrated to the United States, forming the first US seminary, St Mary's in Baltimore.  However, for the first fifty years of the seminary's existence, there were very few seeking training to become priests in the United States.  

In order to be able to support the primary goal (educating priests), seminaries undertook to teach others who would not become priests to pay for their efforts to train new, "native" priests for the United States.  Over the first 58 years, only 114 priests were trained and ordained at St Mary's.  Father Lhomme's task was to separate the college from the seminary and during this time (until 1861) another 112 priests were ordained.

A few clues about Lhomme's personality can be gleaned from the sources linked in the first paragraph.  It seems the man was "strict, but with a good heart," a person who worked hard, was trusted, and was known for "self-denial."  The obituary notes that his health was declining in his later years and he actually asked to be relieved from his post as Superior more than once, but no replacement was forthcoming.  I am sure each of us can picture someone who has been in our lives at some time or another that might be a Francois Lhomme.  For me, at least, this makes the man who received this letter a bit more real - rather some distant individual with no features other than a name, title and a few dates.

Who wrote the letter?

Francis Patrick Kenrick from this site

The writer of the letter was Archbishop Francis Patrick Kenrick (Dec 3, 1797 - Jul 8, 1863), who had become Archbishop for Baltimore in 1851.  Prior to this, he had been Bishop in Philadelphia.  Given the amount of text crammed into this single letter, it should not surprise us that Kenrick authored numerous volumes, including an English translation of the New Testament with annotation that was published in six volumes.

I get the feeling that Kenrick would make the volume of writing I have done seem modest by comparison.

At the time this letter was being written, Kenrick was in Rome, by invitation of Pope Pius IX, to discuss the definition of the Immaculate Conception.  I am not certain what this means, but you can read more if you follow this link.  Kenrick, along with Michael O'Connor, of Pittsburgh, were involved in a meeting from Nov 20 to 24, just prior to writing this letter to Lhomme.  Some of the content in this letter certainly reflected this meeting and the ongoing discussion. 

The root of the matter was this.  Catholics in the United States were a minority, and sometimes under violent attack.  The perspectives of the Catholic clergy in the US was often vastly different from those in Europe, where Catholicism enjoyed a privileged status (though it was being challenged).  Kenrick, Lhomme and others were seeking new definitions that would allow the development of the Catholic Church to progress in the New World.  As it was, they already had to bend the rules to offer educational services to persons other than new clergy.

The letter begins by informing Lhomme that he may celebrate "the Purification," which I assume to be Candlemas (Feb 2) as a "revalidation of such dispensation."  A dispensation is a relaxing of established rules.  The letter continues to discuss such things as "mixed marriages" (Catholic and non-Catholic) and other topics that might require further dispensation from the Pope in order to help Catholicism to become relevant in a different society and culture.

As is often the case, the story can become far more complex and detailed if we want to dig further.  I do not want to sell myself as being an expert in Catholicism or Catholic history, so I refer you to the links provided if you feel you want more.

Otherwise, I have granted myself a dispensation from perfection.  Just this once.

Have a fine remainder of your day and a wonderful week to come!

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Postal History Sunday is published each week at both the Genuine Faux Farm blog and the GFF Postal History blog.  If you are interested in prior entries, you can view them, starting with the most recent, at this location. 

Music Festival

 
Tammy and I used to go to a music festival in the Summer.  One of the highlights for several of those festivals was a favorite group of ours, the Choir.  While the picture above is not from that music festival, it does feature the Choir during an indoor concert in the Twin Cities.  

But, I digress...

So, we took several trips in August to Cornerstone Festival in Bushnell, Illinois.  Our interest waned as we moved further away from that destination and the number of people attending the festival made it feel a bit too crowded for our tastes.  And, of course, once we started the Genuine Faux Farm, there wasn't a much chance we were going to add that trip back to our schedules in the middle of the growign season.

In any event, it was a festival that included a campground area, a pond and some lightly wooded areas to go with the open fields.  Multiple tents were set up for a wide range of concerts and activities.  The headlining artists would play at the more permanent stage constructed in a bowl of land that worked as a natural amphitheater.

Thousands of people pitched tents and camped on sight so they could go to various concerts held throughout the grounds over a period of four to five days.

What struck me about the whole thing is that people would sang whenever they wanted, but they never did sing.  Kids ran all over the place, but they would never run.  People spoke with each other, but they never did speak.  We ate our food, but didn't eat. 

Finally I figured it out.  Everywhere people went it was past tents.

Well, I suppose I must be going now.  You know what "they" say.  Time flies like an arrow.  Fruit flies like a banana.

The Honu Speaks

We were using a piece of paper that had the words "clean" and "dirty" that was clipped to a magnetized "chip clip."  When the word "clean" was right side up, it was a message that the dishes in the dishwasher were clean.  And, of course, if the word "dirty" was right-side up, the dishes were dirty.

This sort of things works as long as everyone who loads and unloads the dishwasher abides by the convention that you should spin the little piece of paper around to match the condition of the dishes in the dishwasher when you do anything with them.  It's crude, and it won't win any "Good Housekeeping" awards, but it worked well enough for us.

Then, we took a trip to Kauai.  And Tammy looked at the wares of some vendors at a craft fair.  There it was, a koa wood creation that could replace our ugly, but functional, communication method for dirty and clean dishes.

And that's when the dispute started.

The truly sad part of all of this is that the magnet that is supposed to keep our sign ON the dishwasher is not strong enough to hold it in place.  Perhaps it would have been better if the product were tested to find this problem? So, it sits on near the wall on the counter above the dishwasher.  We can deal with that, but it would have been nice if it would have worked as intended.  But that's not where the dispute lies.

The piece of wood that is cut in the image of a sea turtle, or honu, can be moved to two different positions.  In effect, the honu speaks and it can tell us whether the dishes in the dishwasher are clean or dirty.  In this case, the issue does not lie with the functionality of the honu to tell us truly how our dishes fare.  

The problem is a matter of interpretation.

Or more specifically, our differing interpretations.

One of us argued that the where the honu resides is the answer to the question.  If the honu is on the left, where the word "clean" is found, then the dishes are clean.  If it is on the right, where the word "dirty" is, then the dishes are dirty.  The other believed that the word that is visible gives us the answer.  Almost as if the word is being spoken in a cartoon-like word bubble.

Communication broke down for a time and there was confusion.  Should I put the dishes away or should I put more dirty dishes in?  The confused individual usually would just load up a few more dishes and run it, even if the dishes were already clean.  Our household was in danger of washing our dishes into non-existence.

If only the honu would speak more clearly, our problems would be solved.   Or maybe we could just get that piece of paper back out. 

The good news is that the dispute was settled and harmony now resides once again in the Genuine Faux Farm kitchen.  The honu speaks.  We listen.  And we understand.

The Purpose of Testing

I may not be an active Software Engineer, but I still have the heart of one.  And, as such, there are a couple of directives that I personally find very compelling:

1. Test often.
2. A successful test is one that finds a problem.

As an instructor, I tried to hammer this philosophy home, with varying degrees of success.  

The first hurdle is that everyone has a tendency to grow tired of something you have to do all of the time....  (Oh, geeez, I've got to go give water to the birds AGAIN!)  Many programmers and software designers are much more attracted to the building of new things.  It is not nearly so glamorous to expend great amounts of time and effort in devising and then employing test after test to see if an existing creation is working correctly. 

Hey!  I want water - NOW!

You see, I wasn't clueless as an instructor and I am not clueless now.  To most people, it's more fun to write program code than it is to write tests to break that code.  Just like it is more fun to write new blog posts than it is to edit them.  (Edit often and successful editing uncovers writing errors? Now there's a thought!)

But I still had the gall to tell people to test often.  And then I had the gall to tell everyone that it isn't necessarily a good thing if the tests you design fail to uncover any problems!  If you have ever written code to create a computer program or an app (or whatever), you know exactly how difficult it is to get a program to run in the first place.  The suggestion that successful tests cause a program to break is usually not received well!  

How terribly rude of me.

We continue to test our clothes dryer

Why Testing for Failure is a Good Thing

In the world of software development, it is my belief that the last person you want to discover a problem with the code is the end-use client who is trying to use the software to do their task.  They are the least likely person to be able to fix the problem once it arises and they are most likely to move on to a competitor's product, if they can, as the solution. 

What's worse?  What if they can't move on to another product (or they don't see the problem in the first place)?  What sort of harm might this cause?  

This is a bit easier to see the impact if we are talking about programs for air traffic controllers or automated tools that deliver doses of radiation to cancer patients.  The discovery of a software error while these tools are being used in industry can result in injury and death.  But, don't discount the ripple effects that occur when a less "critical system" fails because it was not properly tested.

One case in point,  consider an email program that reported emails were sent correctly to customers - but were instead deleted or missent (this is an actual case).  How do we measure the potential damage that comes from this failure?  Perhaps the majority of the lost communications were not terribly critical, but the damage that was done to the reputations of the senders and recipients of these emails could be significant.  For example, one person thinks they sent something and they've never gotten a reply to their questions - what might they be thinking about the people who did not respond?  Could it negatively impact their interactions in the future?

To the dismay of my students, I often employed the strategy of testing for failure with the exams I gave them to assess their learning.  It would be fair to say that most of my tests were considered to be difficult (at the least).  

Yes, I wanted them to have success.  But, my viewpoint was that they would see more success if we could identify some of what they still did not understand.  Granted, this approach was hard on all of us.  I didn't like that the scores made them unhappy and I really didn't want it to be about that.  But, there was no avoiding the fact that there was value in the exercise.  In the end, it wasn't an issue that solid communication couldn't solve.

The green carts in front could have used some testing.

Real Life Testing Needs

Here is a case for testing that applies to the farm.  The two green carts at the front in the picture shown above are likely familiar to anyone who farms at our scale or to people who have gone to nurseries to buy plants for a garden.  The green payload area is actually pretty sturdy.  The design of the overall cart is pretty good.  I bet the prototypes tested out (if they tested them at all) pretty well.  But, they clearly stopped testing once these things went into mass production.

What is wrong with these carts you ask?  After all, these two have been with us for nearly 18 years.  They must be successful, right?

First, you should note the other carts in the picture.  The smaller cart is a left-over from our pre-farm days, so it doesn't really count in the discussion.  But, the black cart is something we have purchased in the time SINCE.  We went and found ourselves a better cart.  

So, why did we move on?

The nice 'pneumatic' wheels that were highly touted for the green carts have a tendency to break on the single weld at the axle.  Of the three carts of this type we have, there are NO original wheels remaining.  We've had to replace them all.  Some of them were replaced more than once until we could find a better manufacturer for replacement wheels.  To top it off, we know we are not the only clients who have dealt with this flaw.

No Test Means No Problem?

Mother Nature is always testing for failure, creating stresses that remove the weak and favor the strong.  Gingko trees do not tend to take well to late frosts and freezes.  If the tree is strong and healthy, it can pull on reserves to send out new leaves.  This year, the Gingko did not succumb to the temptation to begin to bud out prior to the recent cold weather.  But, in 2020, it was sorely tested and it actually survived. 

Humans seem to prefer to have their testing done in real time and in real life - just like Mother Nature.  We do this, rather than employing some patience and some intelligence to run tests BEFORE the consequences are dire.  It gets even sadder when I consider the tendency to ignore test results that point to a problem and then we proceed without addressing the problem.  We could, at the least, determine that the likelihood of that problem occurring is very, very low before proceeding.  But we don't. 

I have a hard time understanding the apparent preference for surprises that we could have prepared for if only we had tested for them.

In the end, I think the true Software Engineers in this world have it right:

1. Test often.
2. A successful test is one that finds a problem.

And, now, I will go test my limits for giving water to the poultry.  Have a good day everyone!

Sweet Marsh - A Disturbing Walk There Again

The weather last week was unseasonably warm and the perennial plants on the farm were going from "nothing much going on here" to "yep, in full bloom now" rapidly.  Tammy and I have been pretty swamped with work, while trying to slip in a little farm and life on the side.  Sadly, that means we haven't been getting the "walk there agains" in as we would ideally like to.  But, just like the plants on the farm, we had to respond to the weather and get ourselves out on a walk this past Saturday by heading to Sweet Marsh Wildlife Management Area.

The last time we tried to walk here there was ice on the water and the cold wind was making it very hard to look at much of anything.  I think Kip Ladage summed it up nicely in a comment that suggested any time the wind speed in miles per hour was the same as the temperature (in Fahrenheit), conditions would be less than ideal for a human to enjoy the situation.  Although, I will say that I've been out in zero degree weather with no wind and found that to be pleasant.

Our theme for this walk was "disturbance."  As in, our presence walking on the dike was seen as a disturbance by most of the other living creatures in the area.  At least it seemed that way.  

I had to tie my shoe, so Tammy continued on ahead.  I took note of a line of birds (probably coots) that were moving themselves away from the area by the dike where Tammy was walking.  I wanted to capture that and snapped a picture.  As you can see, I must have tied my shoe too tight and I was lopsided at the moment I tried to take the picture...

 

We continued down the path and noted that there was a turtle crossing it a few hundred feet ahead of us.  This Painted Turtle really wanted nothing to do with us either, but it couldn't swim or fly away.  Instead, it simply pulled into its portable home and put out the unwelcome mat.  

Of course, being the inconsiderate humans we are, we had to stop and observe this poor creature for longer than it wanted.  To be fair, our simple passage was already considered enough of an inconvenience.  But it seemed like it had a pretty nice home - and we told it so.  

Of course, we got no reply and we eventually gave up having a conversation as a bad job.

We did manage to get out to the marsh  before the sunshine left for the day.  So, we got some blue skies as part of the bargain.  And, to make it even better, the high wind that was forecast had not really arrived.  There was enough to make the water a bit disturbed, but not so much to make things more difficult than it needed to be for the walkers.

The wind was starting to pick up towards the end of the walk.  It even got to the point that some of the open water showed miniature white caps. But, by that point, we were close enough to the trees to avail ourselves of some shelter.

While this was not a current "disturbance," I am sure the fish that once was a part of these bones felt disturbed when it was taken out of the water and nibbled by some creature up on the dike.  We noted several dried fish skeletons on the walk that indicated to us that there are some decent sized fish in the water and there are some predators that know that this is the case.

We did see plenty of Bald Eagle activity earlier in the year (only one on this walk) and we know there are other predators that might find fish to be a tasty snack.

At one point in the walk, we took note of a disturbance that was not being caused by us.  There was some thrashing and rustling on the near bank.  But, we could not really see what was making the noise with the taller reeds and grasses between us and the disturbance causer.  Both of us concluded, fairly quickly that it was one of the water-loving mammals known to be in the area, such as an otter or a beaver.  Given the ruckus, we're pretty sure it was a beaver and that it had been disturbed by our presence and slapped its tail in the water a few times.

If you look at the picture above, I think you'll see a beaver lodge.

The noise was clearly enough to disturb a pair of Canada Geese that decided they could find a calmer area in the marsh to float around.  Personally, I think it's pretty silly for geese to complain about a disturbance.  After all, if you've been around Canada Geese, you already know they make their fair share of noise when they're around.  How bad must it be when those who are used to being the disturbance become disturbed themselves?

If the plants in the area were disturbed by our presence they didn't really show it.  Of course, when you are rooted to the ground, it's pretty hard to escape when a mobile creature - like a human - walks up to you wielding a camera.  

I remember learning about this plant during a field trip when I was in elementary school.  When I saw the flowers as we were walking, that memory was tugging at me, but I just couldn't attach the name and the event in my life to it.  This is a Bloodroot flower and you can see the leaf, on its separate stem, just below the flower itself.  Blood root was used by Indigenous peoples as a red dye and as an insect repellent.  Their flowers are only visible for a short period of time and they close up at night, so I count myself fortunate to be re-introduced to them. 

There were several mounds of fuzzy leaves on the dike near the walking area that are Common Mullein.  I did a quick search and found an interesting article that featured this wild plant and of course, I would take one of the plants nicknames (Cowboy Toiletpaper) away with me over any number of more pertinent facts I could have shared.  So, I had to check out other resources too in order to get my mind on to the task at hand.

Common Mullein is a biennial, which means it will live for two years, sending up its flower stalk in the second season.  The flower stalks from last year's blooms are still in evidence at the marsh.  However, there are fewer standing than there were the last time we were there.

At the left is an image showing one of the dried stalks of a Common Mullein plant.  They can get as much as six to seven feet tall, but most of the examples I have seen over time are between three and four feet in height.  

The yellow flowers on the stalk seem to open randomly over an extended period of time.

Common Mullein is an introduced plant (it is not native to the United States) and is actually considered an invasive species in Michigan.   On the other hand, Iowa and Minnesota simply identify them as wildflowers.  On each site, they recognize that the seed can only germinate on bare soil, which actually makes it fairly easy to control them.  This also explains why the mullein is near the path on the dike.  

See, you wondered how I would keep with the "disturbance" theme, didn't you?  Common Mullein LIKES disturbed soil.

And now we move from that kind of disturbance to a picture that shows how my brain was momentarily disturbed.  I looked over at this culvert and my brain said "how is it possible that there is no water in the culvert itself?"

The current water level was very nearly at the exact half-way point on the round culvert.  The reflection provided me with an optical illusion that made it look like I could see the entire circular opening of the metal tube.

Ok.  I thought it was cool. You can either decide that I am truly disturbed or you can just consider that this is what happens when you read the Genuine Faux Farm blog.

And, of course, one Painted Turtle sighting deserves another.  This one was a bit smaller and seemed to be more colorful.  It was also a bit less shy, deciding it could continue walking on its path after I backed off to about fifteen feet.  

Yes, it was a bit disturbed, but maybe this turtle was feeling more philosophical about it?

The last recorded disturbance of the day happened to be the interesting tracks that disturbed the mud in what remains of Marten's Lake.  Marten's Lake is still drained for maintenance and we're hoping the DNR can get someone to take the contract and follow through with it this time.

Anyway, these tracks criss-crossed and had lots of fun loops to them.  With the parallel tracks, we surmised that they were created by a weasel or otter.  And no, we weren't going down into the mud to get a closer look.  For those who might have interest in learning to identify animal tracks, I ran across this nice resource.

The final (unrecorded) disturbance of the day was the camera telling yours truly that I needed to charge the battery.  That's okay.  I took enough pictures of disturbances for one day.  All in all, it was a good walk and I am sure we will make time to walk there again.