MuseLetter \’myüz-‘le-tər noun
1: a personal message, inspired by a muse of one's own creation, addressed to a person or organization, in the course of which, the sender becomes absorbed in thought; especially turning something over in the mind meditatively and often inconclusively.
2: a letter from a poet, or one who envisions oneself as such, in which he or she “muses” on that which is perceived to be news, or newsworthy, usually in some ironic or absurd way.
Mount Rushmore
Presidents Day will soon be upon us. In days of yore, Washington's (February 22nd) and Lincoln's (February 12th) birthdays, were separately celebrated holidays. The former, national; the latter, state. We got both days off in NYC schools no matter where they fell within the week. When the Uniform Monday Holiday Act became law in 1971, so as to create three-day weekends, "Presidents Day" was so designated, and all presidents were now along for the ride. The good, the bad and the ugly. Few of Mount Rushmore material.
from the collection of Ron Vazzano
Though the current guy would think that he belongs up there. And who knows, given the power he wields, I wouldn't put it past him. Which raises questions as to just how did Mount Rushmore come into being and who made the cut.
As often is the case when delving into American history, we find that at the start, it ain't pretty. While I might bemoan that fact that history is no longer taught in schools like it was back in the day, well back in the day, I was never made aware that the sculpture at Mount Rushmore was built on land that was taken from the Sioux Nation in the 1870s. And they, rightly so, continued to demand return of that land. Even after the Supreme Court ruled in 1980 that the taking of the Black Hills required a compensation to the tune of $102 million, the Sioux refused the money and demanded the return of the land. As this conflict has continued, some critics of the monument refer to it as a "Shrine of Hypocrisy." Hmm. Where have we heard of late, of wanting to take land that doesn't belong to us?
When in 1923, the Secretary of the South Dakota State Historical Society, Doane Robinson, learned about the "Shrine to the Confederacy"—a project to carve the likenesses of Confederate generals into the side of Stone Mountain, Georgia—he began promoting the idea of a similar monument in the Black Hills. Hardly an aspiration born of patriotic fervor, Robinson's agenda was about boosting tourism to South Dakota. His cast of characters would have included the likes of Old West "A-listers," such as Lewis and Clark, Sacagawea, John C. Fremont, and Crazy Horse. But when the sculptor, Gutzon Borglum (born of Danish immigrant parents) was brought on board in 1927 to oversee the project, he convinced Robinson to change the vision of it, and naming it the Shrine of Democracy.
In his concept, Presidents Washington, Jefferson, Roosevelt and Lincoln would be chosen to collectively represent the nation's foundation, expansion, development, and preservation. And that was it. No congressional input or approval needed. Though then president Calvin Coolidge, did give his approval and attended the dedication ceremony in 1927. It opened on October 31, 1941. All unimaginable if such a project were undertaken today.
As a point of record, the granite rock surrounding the faces is fractured, and damage to the four presidents would occur should another face be added. Which should be a deterrent to anyone crazy enough to even think about it.
Speaking of crazy, Crazy Horse, once considered in that project's initial concept, has since been honored by his own monument. Which has been in progress now for decades, in the Black Hills of North Dakota. While the face was unveiled in 1998, significant work remains on the rest of this massive figure. After almost 80 years (it began in 1948), it's doubtful if it will ever be completed. At least as originally planned. For a number of reasons. Though an estimated 1.5 million tourists come to the site each year.
Word of the Month
vinculum vin·cu·lum ˈviŋ-kyə-ləm
plural vinculums or vincula ˈviŋ-kyə-lə
noun
1: a unifying bond : link, tie
2: a straight horizontal mark placed over two or more members of a compound mathematical expression and equivalent to parentheses or brackets about them
Etymology
Latin, from vincire to bind
First Known Use
1661, in the meaning defined at sense 1
Used in a sentence
In sense 1:
The ancient treaty acted as a vinculum, linking the two warring nations for centuries.
In sense 2:
The teacher placed a vinculum over the equation to illustrate the point he was making to his students.
Super Bowl by the Numbers and Beyond
It's back. My obsession with numbers. Not just in any usual mathematical sense, but in the patterns they make. Most especially, when in their randomness, they appear maybe once in a lifetime.
I've written about this before, describing it as a form of apophenia. A condition of a kind in which people see patterns in random events and assign meaning to it. I don't go that far (usually). But I will stop and marvel; taking note of the improbability of their appearance. Sometimes, even taking pictures.
The personal favorite, which I've posted on here previously, involved an odd odometer reading in my car. One I’d never seen before or ever will again. I not only pulled over to capture it on my iPhone, but as it suggested to me a couple of lines from that classic Frost poem, I added them when I got home.
With another Super Bowl upon us, my apophenia turns to numbers of the Roman kind. In all their beautiful convolution. It starts with a number, actually being a letter. And in ancient Rome when applied to dates with names of Ides and Nones and Kalends? Oh my! Having gone on about this before, the first time over twenty years ago, here's a brief recap:
• Kalends are the 1st day of the month.
• Nones are the 7th day in March, May, July and October; the 5th in the other months.
• Ides are the 15th day in March (when Caesar got whacked), but also in May, July and October; the 13th in the other months).
The remaining, unnamed days of the month were identified by counting backwards from the Kalends, Nones, or Ides. For example, this year's Super Bowl on February 8th would be VI Ides. (As the counting of days was inclusive, Ides would be one of the days). This convoluted method of date keeping also suggests to me, still one more reason for the fall of the Roman Empire.
When I think that in a week from now, this will be the 60th time that this grand sports event of ours will occur in our history, I see an LX with the mind's eye placing an "o" in between.
Yes, the Lox Bowl! On a bagel of course. And I'm going to celebrate this observation by actually having bagels and lox (with a schmear), while watching the game. In lieu of the de rigueur chicken wings. Though the beer of course will remain. Bagels and lox and beer, oh my!
I can't help it. Six years ago on the 54th game, or LIV, I thought of Liv Uhlmann. I wonder what she's up to these days at LXXXVII years old?
That's some stretch of numbers. But the longest one that is writable in standard Roman numerals—should the question ever come up as it did in the Saturday NY Times Crossword a few weeks ago— the answer is this boxcar train of... MMMDCCCLXXXVIII. 15 letters in all. Better known as 3,888. But what if a number is larger than three thousand-something?
Placing a line or bar, called a vinculum, above a number multiplies it by 1,000. If say, you want to express one million as a Roman number it would be shown as . Meanwhile, back at the ranch....
Ten years ago, I was anticipating the single numbered (lettered) Super Bowl L. There hadn't been a singular digit one in forty years. Not since Super Bowl X. But with “X” being an unknown, it is unsurprising that I have no recollection of that game. Though at that point I had stopped caring, what with so many more intrusive life events just up ahead. Like Divorce I, and then just prior to Super Bowl XLV, Divorce II. But I was so looking forward to that “L” in the logo, and in every promotion and ad. But then, as I went on in a MuseLetter piece at the time ("What the L?")... “They have decided to deep six this whole Roman number thing and go Arabic."
"This would be the last time that a single number-letter would have been used to designate a Super Bowl, until “C”! In 2066. When those of us of a certain age will be long dead. Don’t you hate when that happens?"
I'll watch as I usually do, with no rooting interest. The last and only time my team the New York Jets were in one of these things, was when for the first time in 1969 it was officially called...
Wow. Three same consecutive Roman numbers. This would, and could, only happen one more time by way of Super Bowl XXX. (The Porn Bowl?) Does anyone expect that 240 years from now, there would a Super Bowl CCC? But if so, those C's would no doubt also stand for "cyborg." And it will have been renamed the Cyborg Bowl. Think of it. Players with readily replaceable anatomical parts. And at half time, no less.
Meanwhile, I can't wait to see Bad Bunny, what with all the brouhaha about his performing at this hallowed event. Relax. It's just another form of entertainment. Mr. Bunny is not headlining in the middle of WWI or WWII (major wars also merit a Roman number). We'll get through this. I have faith in America.
Quote of the Month
Last Call
On a night of a blizzard beyond the pale
amidst a cheer of twinkle lights
he will come here to sit beside you
as he has on other nights.
Some so sultry the streets took to melting.
What will become of these nights and seasons
of innuendo? Having sworn off
love and reason he wonders
when the clock has had the last laugh
when the crowd has disappeared?
Still a line has been drawn in such a way
that the longest distance is he to you
and the ground that might be covered
is one of mind with no point in view—
"Let's raise a toast to pink elephants."
Better a spiral than a labyrinth
which unlike a maze route
is not designed to puzzle.
The way in is the way out.
And oh the ecstasy while at the core.
Artemis II Erratum
In last month's MuseLetter, based on dated information, I erroneously reported that Artemis II would be launched in April. Turns out that the launch date is right around the corner, scheduled as it is for February 6th. It will be the farthest a manned flight has ever gone, sending the 4-person crew roughly 40,000 miles past the Moon's far side—approximately 250,000 miles from Earth— exceeding the previous record set by the endangered Apollo 13 mission in 1970. (Which used the Moon's gravity by swinging around it in a "free-return trajectory," essentially using it as a slingshot to get back to Earth).
