It's Like Walking vs Jogging

Imagine that you have just taken up jogging. You find jogging healthy, energising - a good way to clear your mind and exercise your body first thing in the morning or in the evening after work. You put on a pair of sneakers, leggings, a t-shirt, and off you go on your jog. At an intersection you bump into another jogger, who recognises you and exclaims: "Oh, I see you've taken up jogging! Finally smartened up and realised that it's better than walking, eh? And look, you're pretty good at it! Before you know it, you'll be jogging to work with a change of clothing strapped to your back - you'll see how much faster it is than walking and how much more control it gives you!"



An improbable and illogical scenario, yes? And yet, it is perfectly normal to encounter the same mentality when it comes to cycling. One question I get asked that absolutely puzzles me, is whether I am "moving away from upright bikes" now that I am comfortable riding a bike with drop bars. What?... Are joggers "moving away from walking"? Similarly, I am perplexed when some congratulate me on becoming a "real cyclist", now that I can ride a roadbike and a trackbike. I suppose that means that joggers and track runners are the "real pedestrians"?





Just like there are many forms of pedestrianism, so are there many forms of cycling - each serving its own purpose. The distinction between upright city bicycles, roadbikes and mountain bikes is not so different from the distinction between walking, running and hiking. Walking is a casual form of pedestrianism that is the most natural and low-maintenance way to travel from point A to point B. It is done in one's everyday clothing, while comfortably carrying items on one's person. Taking up jogging or hiking is all well and good, but you'll probably still want to walk to the grocery store.



My upright step-through bikes are my "walking." They are essential to me, no matter what kind of other bikes I ridefor fun or exercise. I am more comfortable than ever now on a roadbike, but when it comes to work or errands or pretty much any kind of city or transportation I will always choose the upright bicycle with a step-through frame, fenders and racks. As with walking vs jogging, there is no "war" between these two forms of cycling as far as I am concerned. They co-exist, each in their appropriate context.

Unhappy Cat

I was trying to take some photos of the cats and dogs with a Christmas hat on so I could add to Christmas cards this year. Murphy did not like the idea and kept insisting he was a Halloween Cat rather than a Christmas cat.

On this holiday, please take just a moment...

to remember... those who gave their lives, those who served, and those still serving today...

The White House Commission on Remembrance (website at http://www.remember.gov/ ) is an independent government agency whose missions include:

• Promoting the spirit of unity and remembrance through observance of The National Moment of Remembrance at 3 PM local time on Memorial Day
• Ensuring the nation remembers the sacrifices of America's fallen from the Revolutionary War to the present
• Recognizing those who served and those who continue to serve our great nation and reminding all Americans of their common heritage

Source of image: a t-shirt for sale and hopefully I won't be sued for copyright infringement for using it… but I couldn't resist, it's such a neat graphic.

And now, a shameless plug for a past post on The Veterans in My Family. That post includes links to other posts on some of the veterans that I've written about.

Wordles Wednesday

No, that isn't a typo. And no, don't worry, this won't be a feature every Wednesday ;-)

Last week when footnoteMaven passed around the Wordle virus to the genea-blogosphere with her post Let Me Get A Wordle In Edgewise, I didn't have time to play. She did a follow-up with Do Not! I Repeat - DO NOT - Read This Post! With links to other genea-Wordles and some other fun stuff.

In school, and the Navy, I was nearly the last in line for everything (surname Wiseman, right). And have a tendency to be a bit late for meetings and appointments. Not on purpose, though it might seem so. Anyway, as the saying goes "Better Late Than Never" here are my contributions to the genea-Wordle-world. One is for the surnames in my Mom's lines, and the other is for my Dad's lines. The size of the name is dependent upon how many ancestors have been entered in my database with that name. As always, click on the images to see a larger version.

Cars

Cars have always been a big part of my father's life. He once bought a house- one half of a duplex with 9 garages. You can still see them on the alley - between Van Ness and Upton Streets. He can tell you about every car he has ever owned starting with the Model T Ford he bought on the sly with the money he earned from picking up golf balls and selling papers. His father thought he was too young to have a car, but that didn’t stop my dad. He lied about his age, forged his father’s name, and got a permit when he was only fifteen. Then his friend, Fred Brown had to hide the car at his house until it was too late for my Papou to stop the deal.

Before he had his own car, my Dad would steal my Papou's car- a maroon Chevrolet with black fenders. Papou kept it in a garage about a block away. Dad swiped the keys to both the garage and the car. He never put gas in it, and Papou never figured out why the car got such bad mileage. He even took it back to the dealer to complain. Later on, my brother would follow unwittingly in his shoes. Not knowing of Dad’s escapades, he’d climb down the tree outside his bedroom window on Davenport Street and “borrow” the car at night. The difference between father and son here was that my brother got caught . Our dad checked the mileage.
My brother’s only recourse was to buy his own car with the money he made from a temp job at the post office. He got a 1939 Buick, shaped like a torpedo. What little paint it had was blue. There was an antenna in the middle of the windshield. No brakes, no insurance, and once again, a forbidden purchase. He’d park it about a block away and walk home. He didn’t get caught until about 9 months later when Dad found a traffic ticket in his wallet.

Anyway after the Model T, my dad upgraded to a 1927 Chevrolet-2 door coupe convertible and from then on it was convertibles all the way. He wanted to modify the Chevy so he went up to the Friendship depot and got a straw bench from a retired streetcar. Then he cut the trunk lid, reversed the hinges, and made his own rumble seat. The next car was a 1932 Desoto with black fenders. He bought that one from a chef from Altoona who was working for Papou at Macomb Cafeteria.

Just before WWII, he got a brand new 1940 Hudson V8 with back windows that buttoned in when the top was down. That was it for new cars for a while. The factories stopped making cars and started making war machines. Those were dark days for my father. During the war, he pre-ordered four cars- and as they started rolling off the assembly line he was right there. The first was a 1947 green convertible Studebaker which he sold when the green convertible Buick came in. Next was the maroon Town and Country Chrysler which he totally loved until the emerald green Cadillac showed up. From then on, it was Cadillacs right on up to the seventies when Cadillac stopped making convertibles. Even then my cousin, Peter Sclavounos, managed to find him a custom made red Eldorado- which turned out to be the last stallion in line, and Dad’s personal favorite with its chrome spoke wheels and big white side walls. But Dad eventually got the fever for a new car again- and it had to be a convertible. That’s when my all American Dad converted to BMW, and it was somewhere around then that he got the bright idea of buying my mother “her car” for their anniversary. My mother didn't learn to drive until her late twenties, and she doesn’t particularly enjoy it, but she wanted her freedom. She avoids the Beltway at all cost, although I have to say she’s a little bit of a lead foot for a supposedly timid driver. She drives to get there, and she does just that. She’s always hated the top down for the unspeakable things that happen to her hair, but she’s always driven a convertible because that’s what Dad loves, and Mom has always "gone along with the program". Even now-just this year- for their 71st anniversary, Dad went out and bought her a bright red Toyota Salera convertible. My mother was totally gracious about it, too. She said she liked the color. And just like when he was a kid, Dad got away with it.

Adventures with Twine

The most typical use of twine on a bicycle, is to secure the inner edges of handlebar tape. Normally, bar tape is secured with black electrical tape and left as is, but I find that this looks unfinished. With twine, the handlebars will look more appealing and the tape will be more securely attached.

I use cooking twine, which is softer to the touch than industrial twine. It is white in its untreated state and turns caramel-brown when amber shellac is applied.

After wrapping your bar tape and securing the inner edges with electrical tape, the twining can begin.

First apply a layer of clear double-sided tape over the electrical tape.

Cut a half-armlength of twine.

Apply the twine over the double-sided tape by simply wrapping it around the handlebar and placing it down neatly onto the sticky surface of the tape. There should be no gaps and no overlap.

When the surface of the double-sided tape is covered with twine, cut the remainder off. There is no need to secure the twine, since it is stuck to the double-sided tape. This will provide a good temporary hold until shellac is applied.

Using a paintbrush or a sponge brush, cover the twined area with amber shellac following the same principles described here.

After three layers of shellac, the twine should feel completely solid and have a deep amber colour to it, at which point the project is finished. Your bar tape will be more secure than ever and will look great.

If you've finished twining your bars and still crave more, do not despair: There are lots of other places on a bicycle where twine can be used. I twined the chrome connector piece between the rack and the rear stays on my Pashley, because I was not satisfied with how the expanse of chrome stood out in an otherwise green and black colour-scheme. The dark amber twine softened that area up, and integrated it nicely with the wicker basket, brown leather saddle, and handlebar grips.

Here is a close-up of the twined rack connector. I thought that this was a failry subtle detail, but to my surprise, several people commented on it while examining my bicycle.

My most daring use of twine thus far, has been the twining of my Shimano Nexus shifter. My reasons for doing this were two-fold: I thought that the big rubber shifter was too modern for the aesthetic of the Pashley's handlebars, and I also found it unpleasant to the touch, especially in the sumemr heat. Covered with shellacked twine, the shifter blends in better and is more comfortable for me to use, as the twine provides a better grip than the rubber. There was some concern regarding whether the twine would adhere well to the rubber, but this was not an issue; just wrap it tightly prior to shellacking.

Of course, once you do this to your shifter, there is no going back: the shellac will disfigure the rubber if you ever decide to remove the twine and you will need to buy a new one. Twine at your own risk!

For more twining ideas, Rivendell has some nice pictures and instructions, as well as hemp twine for sale. Also have a look at this marvelous twined water-bottle pictured on The Epicurean Cyclist.

Alpine Strawberry

A 'White Delight' alpine strawberry flower in the vegetable gardens of The French Laundry.

The Round House

It is no small task to describe the entity that is "Camberville" - that serpentine Somerville-Cambridge city line with its mazes of pocket neighbourhoods, unkempt grapevines, mysterious alleys lined with crumpling garages, and grandiose structures tucked away on sleepy side streets. Wandering through a neighbourhood you think you know, it is not unusual to encounter something wholly unexpected - perhaps a sidewalk treehouse, an enchanted forest, a small castle, or a warehouse-sized artisan incubator.






Very possibly I have cycled past the Round House before without taking much notice. The once-grand structure is not difficult to miss, now only a shadow of its former self. A lusciously overgrown garden torn out some years ago, a grass lot and chainlink fence now surround its bare walls, stripped of trim and embellishment. A thicket of condominiums stands in what was once an open space, blocking the house from view in certain directions.






But on this ghostly-quiet afternoon, I noticed it straight away. It was one of those humid days when the air stands still and the scent of flowers is sickly sweet. The weekend's explosion of lilacs was making me lightheaded. I cycled up a steep hill, and as I turned the corner onto a tiny one-way street the house appeared like a hallucination -backlit by the waning sun and tilting slightly to the left.






Stopping to have a look, I was distracted by the prominent signs discouraging trespassing. They struck me as so insincere as to almost be playful.





I was intrigued further by the curious discrepancy between the siding - which appeared newly installed - and the foundation, which seemed on the verge of collapse.






And then there was the bulging wall.






Strange to think that a Victorian-era locksmith is responsible for this cylindrical wonder. Inspired by the idea of octagonal houses floating around at the time, Somerville resident Enoch Robinson decided to take things one step further and build a round house. Constructed in 1856, the 3-story single family residence housed generations of Robinson's family.






It is not clear why the Round House was vacated and stood empty for so long. But by the 1980s it had its windowsand ornamentation removed, had suffered water damage and faced serious structural problems. There was talk of tearing it down, which, predictably, riled up residents who saw it as a landmark of historical value. Thankfully, it never came to that. Several years ago, the house was purchased by a developer with experience in historical preservation. He plans to restore the house and place it on the market as a single family home.






The Round House was created on a whim, to satisfy a personal interest - possibly an obsession, judging by the limited information I found on its creator. Yet by virtue of existing in a publicly visible and visitable space, it is also a communal resource, and will continue to be as ownership changes hands. How will the new residents feel about that, I wondered, eying the awkward battlements that surround the top story. I hope they plant a nice garden. Maybe some lilacs, dogwood and pines, against that stark beige facade.

The Bike Shop Next Door

It is the hottest day of the summer when I visit the finished space - a space I have watched transform from a dusty vacant storefront around the corner from my house, to Boston's only transportation-oriented bike shop. Carice and the Small Brown Dog are basking in the morning glow of the homey sun-drenched interior.The newly installed air conditioning is blessedly strong. The phone rings, and it appears that someone wants to order a bike. It is official: Bicycle Belle is open for business.






I have known Carice for about 4 years now - an architect, local bike blogger, DIY addict and lover of vintage 3-speeds. On occasion, we would meet for tea. Funny to think it was only months ago that, engaged in that very activity, we discussed taking the cargo bike plunge. She was considering buying a Dutch bakfiets.I was leaning toward an Xtracycle Radish.We debated the pros and cons of each.








Now both cargo bikes stand side by side in her very own retail space. It was that quick: from idea, to decision, to action, to completion, in just a couple of months. And yet, what happened felt neither hasty nor impulsive. Sometimes an idea develops dormantly, swirling around under the surface for years, ripening, just waiting for something to crack that surface open. In the Spring of , Carice felt that something and the idea became reality. And once the decision was made, her organisational skills, work ethic, and industry contacts from years of bike blogging, made everything happen swiftly. A bit of luck with the retail space cinched the deal.





The retail space had several compelling qualities to recommend it. First, the address. Situated on the border of Somerville and Cambridge (quite literally: half the building is on one side of the town line, half on the other),it sits at the start of Beacon Street - a bicycle super-highway through two of Boston's most bike-friendly boroughs. With its triangular footprint, the structure is distinct and no doubt an architect's dream. Windows on all sides, the interior is penetrated by gorgeous natural light. The wrap-around storefront also makes the wares on display highly visible to local traffic.








Finally - and rather remarkably - the space was available for immediate occupancy. Carice saw an opportunity and took it.







At the start of July Bicycle Belle was soft-launched under the slogan "cycling for city life." At present, the core collection includes transportation bicycles from Bobbin, Papillionnaire, Beater, Paper Bike and Soma, cargo bikes from Workcycles, Xtracycle and Kinn, and a slew of accessories from the likes of Basil, Brooks, Cleverhood, Vespertine, Yepp, Burley, Iva Jean, Velo Orange, et cetera. With utility/ transport/ city/ family bikes (circle your preferred term) more popular in North America than ever, there is nothing unusual about the inventory - save for the fact that a store with an exclusive focus on this market did not already exist in Boston, a major US city teeming with bicycle commuters.





Over the years, many of us have wondered why that was so. Not only was there no transportation-specific bike shop, but many shops that did try to carry some of that merchandise would often drop it after only a year or two - citing lack of local interest. "Boston is too aggressive of a city for these types of bikes" bike shop owners have told me - meaning cargo bikes, utility bikes. And yet, more and more of "these types of bikes" kept filling the streets. Clearly locals were buying them, and they were traveling out of town to do so - or else ordering online. Bike shops in places as remote as Oregon, Florida, California and Washington State have reported routinely selling bikes to customers in Boston.



One possible explanation for the discrepancy, is that the shops citing a lack of local interest have not been sufficiently "into" utility bikes to successfully sell them. When you don't fully believe in a product, customers sense that and failure can become a self-fulfilling prophecy. By committing wholly to the utility bike target market, Bicycle Belle hopes to experience a more positive response.






Will the approach work? After only weeks in business, it is far too early to tell. It's worked for a dozen or so successful city bike shops that have sprung up throughout the US. But there are also those that have failed. Since opening its doors, Bicycle Belle has received a healthy amount of orders. But initial buzz does not mean long-term success. In other words: Let's wait and see.





Last Thursday night, Bicycle Belle held its official opening party. Due to limited space, it was intended to be a semi-invitational, low key affair. Yet the turnout was impressive and the atmosphere charged with excitement.






It was good to meet local activists, such as Jessica Mink.





And local bike bloggers, like Bike Style Boston





and Car Free Cambridge.





There were also plenty of familiar faces, including cartoonist Bikeyface and fashion model Vorpal Chortle.





Many of those in attendance were dressed up - lots of skirts, heels, suits - all arriving by bike of course.





At first I thought they'd dressed up for the party, but actually this was simply what people had worn to the office, since the party was immediately after many finished work.





Another trend of the evening was pregnancy - I spotted at least half a dozen pregnant cyclists in attendance. (Perhaps a future group ride theme?)







It was a good evening of wine, food and sparkly conversation, that showcased Boston's utility and family bicycling scene.






And all the while, outside, a steady procession of cyclists could be observed through the storefront windows.






Business as usual for the end of the workday commute down Beacon Street.






Local reactions to Bicycle Belle have been mostly positive, of the "It's about time!" variety. As anyone in the industry knows, a bike shop is never a get rich scheme - not even close. But the business must prove sustainable, and I sincerely hope this one does. Boston has been crying out for a resource like this for some time, and it's exciting that we finally have it - in my very own neighbourhood, no less. If you're in the area, drop by and pay theBicycle Bellea visit! More shots of the space and opening party here.

Tombstone Tuesday :: George and Minnie Linvill

Minnie Belle Shuder was born August 10, 1878 near Oswego, Kosciusko County, Indiana. She was the daughter of Isaac and Nancy Jane (Lavering) Shuder, my Dad's grandparents and therefore was a sister of my fraternal grandmother, Elsie Shuder Wiseman.

According to their Kosciusko County Marriage Application, Minnie was married in Indianapolis to Richard Harry Larrabee, son of Cornelius and Meliss (Conn) Larabee., on August 10, 1906. She was 28 years old and he was 36. When their only child, Richard J. Larrabee, was born on March 5, 1915 she was 36 years old. However, I'm not positive that they were the birth parents as her obituary states that Richard was her foster son.

Apparently, her husband went missing for a while. In an article in the Northern Indianian dated January 17, 1918 we find that "Mrs. R. H. Laribee [sic], the daughter of N. L. [sic] Schuder of Barbee Lakes, has asked Marshal C. W. Douglass to assist in locating her husband who was missing for more than a month. Inquiry was being made at Indianapolis where he was last heard from December 11th. He was a carpenter and for a number of months was employed by the government and worked at Camp Taylor and other army cantonments. Early in December he accompanied his wife here and returned to Indianapolis, where their goods were stored, intending to move them overland to this county. Mrs. Laribee received a letter from him after he went to Indianapolis which stated that because of the bad weather the draymen wished to postpone the trip for a few days. That was the last heard of him. Mrs. Laribee says her husband was suffering from a severe cold when he went to Indianapolis, and says it is possible that he may have become ill and taken to a hospital. He has a brother in Indianapolis."

A note in my cousin Caroline's files stated that Richard was never heard from again. However, Minnie and Harry R. Larrabee were found in the 1920 census living in Warsaw, Wayne Township, Kosciusko County, Indiana (page 230). Harry was listed as a 50 year old carpenter and Minnie was 41 years old. Listed with them was a son, Richard, age 4 years.

It seems that all did not go well for Minnie and her husband. An index of Whitley County Marriage Records show that Minnie was married to George W. Linville on May 18, 1928. I haven't gotten a copy of the marriage application yet but the index gives her last name as Schuder instead of Larabee. It should also tell us whether her first marriage ended by divorce or death of Richard Harry.

Minnie passed away at age 68 on November 27, 1946 at her home in Millersburg, Indiana. George was 70 years old and still living in Millersburg when he passed away on April 10, 1949 while visiting his stepson, Richard Larabee in Goshen, Indiana. His obituary stated that George was a wood worker and had formerly resided at Churubusco, Warsaw, and New Paris. Survivors were listed as a step son, Richard Larabee, and a step grandson, James Larabee.

George and Minnie are interred at the North Webster Cemetery in North Webster, Kosciusko County, Indiana. They are in the same cemetery as her parents and several siblings, although in a different section.


Thanks to wonderful directions from my cousin Charlene, I found Minnie's gravesite. It is in the southernmost section of the cemetery and the marker is the first one in the row just beyond the big bush. You can see the blue waters of beautiful Lake Webster in the background.

GEORGE W. / 1878-1919
MINNIE B. / 1878-1946
LINVILL
Photograps taken May 21, .. - Copyright © .. by Rebeckah R. Wiseman

Walking the walk?

Easy to sit in the office and tap out total bs on a blog. Ya gotta wonder just how much of what I write, am I really willing to do. How deep do I get?

After getting rained out of the alpine yesterday morning at 3AM and then waking up to sunshine at 10AM I was more than a little depressed. For me the 3AM starts are generally the crux. Getting up at 3AM driving to the trail head and then bailing is not easy for me. So, for much of yesterday I planned a resurrection.

But I wanted something different. A new challenge. I wanted to do a climb as light as possible (in my context). All this new gear and technology and I had yet to push both and then myself.

For a quick test I choose a 2 mile hike with 2200' of elevation gain and another 800' of AI up to 70 degrees to finish.

Gear? All my clothing including socks and gloves weighted 3.25# total. For the bottoms I used a set of poly boxers and a pair of super light weight Gamma Lt Arcteryx pants. I added grommets and elastic to the pants legs so I could ditch the gaiters. Two pairs of socks and the silver bullet, La Sportiva's Trango Extreme Evo Gortex boots. The top? A short sleeved, wide open, fish net poly bicycle t shirt, a lwt merino wool zip front and a new Eddie Bauer, Frontpoint jacket, a lwt silk bandanna and a polar tech pile head band. Gloves were the REI multi-sport Minialmist. Big day for Petzl! Tools? Nomics, with BD umbilicals. Crampons were Dartwins clip-ons and my helmet was a Meteor, harness a Hirundos. I also bagged a 65m 5mm rap line, a small rope Reversino, a long spectra sling with 3 ultralight biners, 2 wire gates and a locker.

Temps were between the low 30s walking in and the mid 20s on the climb. But I still forced myself to start in the fishnet t shirt and the silk head band. Yes sir, it was a little chilly for the first few minutes in the legs, more than the torso, surprisingly.

2 hrs later and just short of the ridge I added the EB Frontpoint wind shell. In the wind and fog on the ridge crest, while others were adding belay jackets, I peeled the Frontpoint jacket and added my dress weight (very lwt) Merino wool sweater ($30 from a Men's Warehouse sale) and zipped up. The other climbers already on the ridge were well kitted for the weather as long as you weren't going to actually move!

An hr. later I was on top and comfortable. My clothing still dry. The first climber up behind me (who started before me) was complaining that he had to take a break and peel some layers before he could continue. He was both, over heated and wet.

C2C ...even with breaking some trail I had set a personal best for the route and had cut hrs. off my time. Better yet it was the most enjoyable time I have had on the climb. While the conditions were the hardest ice conditions I've seen there.

Good reminder for me to be selective of your gear and pay attention to what it weights. Wear less, be more comfortable and climb faster! Good day out for me. But obviously in the grand scheme, not all that deep :)

"Cool muscles work more efficiently."

For more on the subject of lwt gear and a great read try Mark Twight's "Extreme Alpinism"




A 24/48/60 hr follow up on this little adventure. Typically I would be dehydrated the evening after a climb and well into next day. I drank less on the approach and climb and wasn't dehydrated later that day or in the next 48 hrs. Which means in this case I could carry less weight in water and still be comfortable. I had less muscle soreness than usual. A lot less. I ate a bit of sugar and carbs and a drank a pint of water after I arrived at the car and had a really hot shower when I got home. We ate a typically light dinner that night. I did an casual, hour long, hike the next day but recovery was much, much faster than usual.

The one thing that really sticks in my mind about this trip was being able to literally run out the last mile of so of the trail and actually thinking it was fun! I was having the rare day physically. But I suspect that "rare" day might well be repeated on demand given the right circumstance and preparation. That idea obviously deserves further investigation and documentation.

These are The Faces of Genealogy

Henry and Susie Phend with their great grandchildren on the celebration of their 60th wedding anniversary, September 2, 1952. That's me on the left side, sitting on the ground. My brothers, Doug and Jack, are between me and Susie. Doug was 5, I was 4, and Jack was 3 years old. The other kids are first and second cousins. They are just part of the reason I “got into” genealogy.



I'm a little behind in my blog reading... and saw this post late yesterday afternoon, which explains why I'm posting this photograph, which is one of my favorites.



Due to the amazing response of the genealogy-blogging community, the offensive photo was removed from the online article.

The Creek

Lee is standing by the creek that is above Jemez Springs where a lot of fishing is done. I think this is part of San Antonio Creek.