Monday, June 29, 2009
Sunday, June 28, 2009
Saturday, June 27, 2009
Friday, June 26, 2009
Here is a little change of pace for our Friday selection. Minuet in G, by Beethoven is what we used to call 'Long Hair' music when I was a kid. I wonder if people still use that term. This record has been in the cabinet for many years, and this is the first time we have played it. The artist, Kathleen Parlow, is pictured below. Click Here to read about her.
Thursday, June 25, 2009
Wet weather has delayed the wheat harvest in Southern Illinois this year, and has hurt the quality. The ground has finally dried out enough to allow the combines to work, and farmers are busily harvesting, and then planting second crop beans. Bottomland fields along the Little Wabash have not all been planted yet, due to flooding. The John Deere combine in this video is working across the road from our home.
Wednesday, June 24, 2009
Tuesday, June 23, 2009
Monday turned ito a very long day, so this is just a quick video of an engine we saw at the SIAM show. It is a Fairbanks-Morse, and I know that I would set jacks under the back corners of the truck if I had to watch this baby. I nearly get seasick just watching the video.
Monday, June 22, 2009
Sunday, June 21, 2009
Charlie Johnson - Charleston is The Best Dance After All
Uploaded by kspm0220s. - Explore more music videos.
YouTuber KSPM now has a channel on DailyMotion, and is posting his music collection over there. This selection is a great example of Harlem Jazz; Charlie Johnson's band playing "Charleston Is The Best Dance After All."
This video is downright inspirational! You have to wonder if this lady in video intended to drive her car this long when she bought it, or if she just worked into the mode of driving it forever. She knows how to take care of a car, even watching it on the grease rack to make sure it is lubed properly. I was only mildly surprised to see that she has a concealed carry permit and packs a revolver. I would hazard a guess that she keeps it oiled and stoked properly so it can go into action without fail if it is ever needed. You have to admire her for her Moxie!
Growing Bolder has posted two more videos of Rachel and Chariot. The Comet now has 577,000 miles, and Rachel is still determined to keep driving it.
Saturday, June 20, 2009
Andy Glines was running his Huber at Evansville last week. You have seen him here before, pulling the sawmill at this show, and threshing at Boonville. The weather last Saturday was beautiful, and we had a great time at the SIAM show. In the weeks ahead we will be sharing photos and videos of tractors, cars, and gas engines.
Friday, June 19, 2009
Sascha Jacobsen (1895-1972) graduated from Juilliard in 1915 (According to Wikipedia, which has a very brief article about this violinist.) He later taught at there, and was the concertmaster for the Los Angeles Philharmonic in the 1950's. Dardanella was a very popular song during the early 1920's, and was recorded by many artists.
Thursday, June 18, 2009
Wednesday, June 17, 2009
Tuesday, June 16, 2009
Monday, June 15, 2009
Sunday, June 14, 2009
If you don't know all the verses of our National Anthem, or if you haven't heard them in a while, be sure to watch all of the first video before you play the second.
Congressman Randy Forbes, R-VA
A big Thank You to Argghhh!!! for posting the first video, and to Curmudgeonly and Skeptical for posting the second one, on their excellent and informative blogs.
Saturday, June 13, 2009
The Southern Indiana Antique Machinery Club is having their annual show this weekend. Last year we took lots of photos and videos, but never made it to the antique tractors. We are planning to get away early Saturday morning, and hope to get lots of material to share with you on the blog. Here is a replay of Andy Gline's Huber engine running the sawmill last year. Stay tuned!
Friday, June 12, 2009
Thursday, June 11, 2009
This chainsaw student is trying out bucking with a wedge. He was new to saws, and really fell hard for horsepower and throwing chips. Bucking was done beginning on the compression side of the log until the cut began to close, then a wedge was put in to keep the cut open. Cutting continued out the tensioned side of the log. Notice how he kept his body out of line from the bar of the saw; that is a good habit to cultivate.
Just how enthusiastic was this guy? Here he is cutting a disc off the tree he dropped during the class at the Dixon Springs Ag Center. As I left the Ag Center for home, he was loading this into the trunk of his car for a souvenir.
Wednesday, June 10, 2009
Tuesday, June 9, 2009
Monday, June 8, 2009
Sunday, June 7, 2009
Kennedy always blows me away when I listen to him. I found some videos this morning of him playing the Bach violin concertos, and they are so good that I have to share them with you. These videos are all three movements of the Bach Violin Concerto #1. Put them on to play and open another tab to do your surfing today.
Saturday, June 6, 2009
The water was full of squishy little jellyfish about the size of a man's hand. Millions of them. In the center of each of them was green design exactly like a four-leafed clover. The good-luck emblem. Sure. Hell, yes.
I walked for a mile and a half along the water's edge of our many-miled beach. I walked slowly, for the detail on the beach was infinite.
The wreckage was vast and startling. The awful waste and destruction of war, even aside from the loss of human life, has always been one of its outstanding features to those who are in it. Anything and everything is expendable. And we did expend on our beachhead in Normandy during those first few hours.
For a mile out from the beach there were scores of tanks and trucks and boats that were not visible, for they were at the bottom of the water-swamped by overloading, or hit by shells, or sunk by mines. Most of their crews were lost.
There were trucks tipped half over and swamped, partly sunken barges, and the angled-up corners of jeeps, and small landing craft half submerged. And at low tide you could still see those vicious six-pronged iron snares that helped snag and wreck them.
On the beach itself, high and dry, were all kinds of wrecked vehicles. There were tanks that had only just made the beach before being knocked out. There were jeeps that had burned to a dull gray. There were big derricks on caterpillar treads that didn't quite make it. There were half-tracks carrying office equipment that had been made into a shambles by single shell hit, their interiors still holding the useless equipage of smashed typewriters, telephones, office files.
There were LCTs turned completely upside down, and lying on their backs, and how they got that way I don't know. There were boats stacked on top of each other, their sides caved in, their suspension doors knocked off.
In this shore-line museum of carnage there were abandoned rolls of barbed wire and smashed bulldozers and big stacks of thrown-away life belts and piles of shells still waiting to be moved. In the water floated empty life rafts and soldiers' packs and ration boxes, and myserious oranges. On the beach lay snarled rolls of telephone wire and big rolls of steel matting and stacks of broken, rusting rifles.
On the beach lay, expended, sufficient men and mechanism for a small war. They were gone forever now. And yet we could afford it.
We could afford it because we were on, we had our toe hold, and behind us there were such enormous replacements for this wreckage on the beach that you could hardly conceive of the sum total. Men and equipment were flowing from England in such a gigantic stream that it made the waste on the beachhead seem like nothing it all, really nothing at all.
But there was another and more human litter. It extended in a thin little line, just like a high-water mark, for miles along the beach. This was the strewn personal gear, gear that would never be needed again by those who fought and died to give us our entrance into Europe.
There in a jumbled row for mile on mile were soldiers' packs. There were socks and shoe polish, sewing kits, diaries, Bibles, hand grenades. There were the latest letters from home, with the address on each one neatly razored out-one of the security precautions enforced before the boys embarked.
There were toothbrushes and razors, and snapshots of families back home staring up at you from the sand. There were pocketbooks, metal mirrors, extra trousers, and bloody, abandoned shoes. There were broken-handled shovels, and portable radios smashed almost beyond recognition, and mine detectors twisted and ruined.
There were torn pistol belts and canvas water buckets, first-aid kits, and jumbled heaps of life belts. I picked up a pocket Bible with a soldier's name in it, and put it in my jacket. I carried it half a mile or so and then put it back down on the beach. I don't know why I picked it up, or why I put it down again.
Soldiers carry strange things ashore with them. In every invasion there is at least one soldier hitting the beach at H-hour with a banjo slung over his shoulder. The most ironic piece of equipment marking our beach-this beach first of despair, then of victory-was a tennis racket that some soldier had brought along. It lay lonesomely on the sand, clamped in its press, not a string broken.
Two of the most dominant items in the beach refuse were cigarettes and writing paper. Each soldier was issued a carton of cigarettes just before he started. That day those cartons by the thousand, water-soaked and spilled out, marked the line of our first savage blow.
Writing paper and air-mail envelopes came second. The boys had intended to do a lot of writing in France. The letters-now forever incapable of being written-that might have filled those blank abandoned pages!
Always there are dogs in every invasion. There was a dog still on the beach, still pitifully looking for his masters. He stayed at the water's edge, near a boat that lay twisted and half sunk at the waterline. He barked appealingly to every soldier who approached, trotted eagerly along with him for a few feet, and then, sensing himself unwanted in all the haste, he would run back to wait in vain for his own people at his own empty boat.
Over and around this long thin line of personal anguish, fresh men were rushing vast supplies to keep our armies pushing on into France. Other squads of men picked amidst the wreckage to salvage ammunition and equipment that was still usable.
Men worked and slept on the beach for days before the last D-day victim was taken away for burial.
I stepped over the form of one youngster whom I thought dead, But when I looked down I saw he was only sleeping. He was very young, and very tired. He lay on one elbow, his hand suspended in the air about six inches from the ground. And in the palm of his hand he held a large, smooth rock.
I stood and looked at him a long time. He seemed in his sleep to hold that rock lovingly, as though it were his last link with a vanishing world. I have no idea at all why he went to sleep with the rock in his hand, or what kept him from dropping it once he was asleep. It was just one of those little things without explanation that a person remembers for a long time.
The strong, swirling tides of the Normandy coast line shifted the contours of the sandy beach as they moved in and out. They carried soldiers' bodies out to sea, and later they returned them. They covered the corpses of heroes with sand, and then in their whims they uncovered them.
As I plowed out over the wet sand, I walked around what seemed to be a couple of pieces of driftwood sticking out of the sand. But they weren't driftwood. They were a soldier's two feet. He was completely covered except for his feet; the toes of his GI shoes pointed toward the land he had come so far to see, and which he saw so briefly.
From "Brave Men" by Ernie Pyle
Friday, June 5, 2009
Thursday, June 4, 2009
Wednesday, June 3, 2009
The Southern Indiana Antique Machinery show is coming up on the weekend of June 12, and it is a good thing, because I am running low on unused videos of old machinery. Click on the Farm Collector Show Directory (under Stoke Up in the left sidebar) to find shows in your neighborhood. Steam and gas engine shows are good family entertainment, and great places to make new friends, and see 'new' things. The tamper/compactor in this brief video is one of the machines you can see at Old Threshers, in Mt. Pleasant, Iowa.
Tuesday, June 2, 2009
Controlling your saw when you crank it up is an easy habit to acquire, and it will serve you well, protecting you from nasty cuts. Lock the grip between your knees, or hold it on the ground when you are ready to start your saw.