Friday, July 10, 2020

Space Exploration: Inspiring Speech by President Kennedy


Hello everyone –



This edition of Quotemail is devoted to what my ancient Welsh forebears would call “the country of the summer stars,” which I would interpret to include the study and exploration of the vast cosmos that we see every night of the year! J



The month of July is a great time to reflect on humanity’s first decades of space exploration:

  • July 20, 1969 = Apollo 11 (the first Moon landing)!
  • July 20, 1976 = The Viking 1 probe landed on Mars.
  • July 15, 2015 = First-ever flyby of the PLANET Pluto by the New Horizons probe.
  • July 5, 2016 = The Juno probe arrived at Jupiter.

In honor of these auspicious occasions, I’d like to share with you the text of President John F. Kennedy’s address at Rice University in Houston on 9/12/1962, in which he explained why exploration of the final frontier was – and still is – such an important human endeavor.



TEXT OF PRESIDENT JOHN KENNEDY'S RICE STADIUM MOON SPEECH



President Pitzer, Mr. Vice President, Governor, Congressman Thomas, Senator Wiley, and Congressman Miller, Mr. Webb, Mr. Bell, scientists, distinguished guests, and ladies and gentlemen:



I appreciate your president having made me an honorary visiting professor, and I will assure you that my first lecture will be very brief.



I am delighted to be here, and I'm particularly delighted to be here on this occasion.



We meet at a college noted for knowledge, in a city noted for progress, in a State noted for strength, and we stand in need of all three, for we meet in an hour of change and challenge, in a decade of hope and fear, in an age of both knowledge and ignorance. The greater our knowledge increases, the greater our ignorance unfolds.



Despite the striking fact that most of the scientists that the world has ever known are alive and working today, despite the fact that this Nation’s own scientific manpower is doubling every 12 years in a rate of growth more than three times that of our population as a whole, despite that, the vast stretches of the unknown and the unanswered and the unfinished still far outstrip our collective comprehension.



No man can fully grasp how far and how fast we have come, but condense, if you will, the 50,000 years of man’s recorded history in a time span of but a half-century. Stated in these terms, we know very little about the first 40 years, except at the end of them advanced man had learned to use the skins of animals to cover them. Then about 10 years ago, under this standard, man emerged from his caves to construct other kinds of shelter. Only five years ago man learned to write and use a cart with wheels. Christianity began less than two years ago. The printing press came this year, and then less than two months ago, during this whole 50-year span of human history, the steam engine provided a new source of power.



Newton explored the meaning of gravity. Last month electric lights and telephones and automobiles and airplanes became available. Only last week did we develop penicillin and television and nuclear power, and now if America’s new spacecraft succeeds in reaching Venus, we will have literally reached the stars before midnight tonight.



This is a breathtaking pace, and such a pace cannot help but create new ills as it dispels old, new ignorance, new problems, new dangers. Surely the opening vistas of space promise high costs and hardships, as well as high reward.

So it is not surprising that some would have us stay where we are a little longer to rest, to wait. But this city of Houston, this State of Texas, this country of the United States was not built by those who waited and rested and wished to look behind them. This country was conquered by those who moved forward--and so will space.



William Bradford, speaking in 1630 of the founding of the Plymouth Bay Colony, said that all great and honorable actions are accompanied with great difficulties, and both must be enterprised and overcome with answerable courage.

If this capsule history of our progress teaches us anything, it is that man, in his quest for knowledge and progress, is determined and cannot be deterred. The exploration of space will go ahead, whether we join in it or not, and it is one of the great adventures of all time, and no nation which expects to be the leader of other nations can expect to stay behind in the race for space.



Those who came before us made certain that this country rode the first waves of the industrial revolutions, the first waves of modern invention, and the first wave of nuclear power, and this generation does not intend to founder in the backwash of the coming age of space. We mean to be a part of it--we mean to lead it. For the eyes of the world now look into space, to the moon and to the planets beyond, and we have vowed that we shall not see it governed by a hostile flag of conquest, but by a banner of freedom and peace. We have vowed that we shall not see space filled with weapons of mass destruction, but with instruments of knowledge and understanding.



Yet the vows of this Nation can only be fulfilled if we in this Nation are first, and, therefore, we intend to be first. In short, our leadership in science and in industry, our hopes for peace and security, our obligations to ourselves as well as others, all require us to make this effort, to solve these mysteries, to solve them for the good of all men, and to become the world’s leading space-faring nation.



We set sail on this new sea because there is new knowledge to be gained, and new rights to be won, and they must be won and used for the progress of all people. For space science, like nuclear science and all technology, has no conscience of its own. Whether it will become a force for good or ill depends on man, and only if the United States occupies a position of pre-eminence can we help decide whether this new ocean will be a sea of peace or a new terrifying theater of war. I do not say that we should or will go unprotected against the hostile misuse of space any more than we go unprotected against the hostile use of land or sea, but I do say that space can be explored and mastered without feeding the fires of war, without repeating the mistakes that man has made in extending his writ around this globe of ours.



There is no strife, no prejudice, no national conflict in outer space as yet. Its hazards are hostile to us all. Its conquest deserves the best of all mankind, and its opportunity for peaceful cooperation many never come again. But why, some say, the moon? Why choose this as our goal? And they may well ask why climb the highest mountain? Why, 35 years ago, fly the Atlantic? Why does Rice play Texas?



We choose to go to the moon. We choose to go to the moon in this decade and do the other things, not because they are easy, but because they are hard, because that goal will serve to organize and measure the best of our energies and skills, because that challenge is one that we are willing to accept, one we are unwilling to postpone, and one which we intend to win, and the others, too.



It is for these reasons that I regard the decision last year to shift our efforts in space from low to high gear as among the most important decisions that will be made during my incumbency in the office of the Presidency.



In the last 24 hours we have seen facilities now being created for the greatest and most complex exploration in man’s history. We have felt the ground shake and the air shattered by the testing of a Saturn C-1 booster rocket, many times as powerful as the Atlas which launched John Glenn, generating power equivalent to 10,000 automobiles with their accelerators on the floor. We have seen the site where the F-1 rocket engines, each one as powerful as all eight engines of the Saturn combined, will be clustered together to make the advanced Saturn missile, assembled in a new building to be built at Cape Canaveral as tall as a 48 story structure, as wide as a city block, and as long as two lengths of this field.



Within these last 19 months at least 45 satellites have circled the earth. Some 40 of them were "made in the United States of America" and they were far more sophisticated and supplied far more knowledge to the people of the world than those of the Soviet Union.



The Mariner spacecraft now on its way to Venus is the most intricate instrument in the history of space science. The accuracy of that shot is comparable to firing a missile from Cape Canaveral and dropping it in this stadium between the 40-yard lines.



Transit satellites are helping our ships at sea to steer a safer course. Tiros satellites have given us unprecedented warnings of hurricanes and storms, and will do the same for forest fires and icebergs.



We have had our failures, but so have others, even if they do not admit them. And they may be less public.



To be sure, we are behind, and will be behind for some time in manned flight. But we do not intend to stay behind, and in this decade, we shall make up and move ahead.



The growth of our science and education will be enriched by new knowledge of our universe and environment, by new techniques of learning and mapping and observation, by new tools and computers for industry, medicine, the home as well as the school. Technical institutions, such as Rice, will reap the harvest of these gains.



And finally, the space effort itself, while still in its infancy, has already created a great number of new companies, and tens of thousands of new jobs. Space and related industries are generating new demands in investment and skilled personnel, and this city and this State, and this region, will share greatly in this growth. What was once the furthest outpost on the old frontier of the West will be the furthest outpost on the new frontier of science and space. Houston, your City of Houston, with its Manned Spacecraft Center, will become the heart of a large scientific and engineering community. During the next 5 years the National Aeronautics and Space Administration expects to double the number of scientists and engineers in this area, to increase its outlays for salaries and expenses to $60 million a year; to invest some $200 million in plant and laboratory facilities; and to direct or contract for new space efforts over $1 billion from this Center in this City.



To be sure, all this costs us all a good deal of money. This year’s space budget is three times what it was in January 1961, and it is greater than the space budget of the previous eight years combined. That budget now stands at $5,400 million a year--a staggering sum, though somewhat less than we pay for cigarettes and cigars every year. Space expenditures will soon rise some more, from 40 cents per person per week to more than 50 cents a week for every man, woman and child in the United Stated, for we have given this program a high national priority--even though I realize that this is in some measure an act of faith and vision, for we do not now know what benefits await us.



But if I were to say, my fellow citizens, that we shall send to the moon, 240,000 miles away from the control station in Houston, a giant rocket more than 300 feet tall, the length of this football field, made of new metal alloys, some of which have not yet been invented, capable of standing heat and stresses several times more than have ever been experienced, fitted together with a precision better than the finest watch, carrying all the equipment needed for propulsion, guidance, control, communications, food and survival, on an untried mission, to an unknown celestial body, and then return it safely to earth, re-entering the atmosphere at speeds of over 25,000 miles per hour, causing heat about half that of the temperature of the sun--almost as hot as it is here today--and do all this, and do it right, and do it first before this decade is out--then we must be bold.



I'm the one who is doing all the work, so we just want you to stay cool for a minute. [laughter]



However, I think we're going to do it, and I think that we must pay what needs to be paid. I don't think we ought to waste any money, but I think we ought to do the job. And this will be done in the decade of the sixties. It may be done while some of you are still here at school at this college and university. It will be done during the term of office of some of the people who sit here on this platform. But it will be done. And it will be done before the end of this decade.



I am delighted that this university is playing a part in putting a man on the moon as part of a great national effort of the United States of America.



Many years ago the great British explorer George Mallory, who was to die on Mount Everest, was asked why did he want to climb it. He said, "Because it is there."



Well, space is there, and we're going to climb it, and the moon and the planets are there, and new hopes for knowledge and peace are there. And, therefore, as we set sail we ask God's blessing on the most hazardous and dangerous and greatest adventure on which man has ever embarked.



Thank you.



“Ad astra per aspera!” (Latin) = “To the stars through striving!”



Robertus (Rob) J


Tuesday, June 23, 2020

Merry Midsummer Eve!


Hello everyone –



TONIGHT – Tuesday, June 23rd – is Midsummer Eve, a traditional holiday that celebrates the long days and short nights of summertime with bonfires, dancing, feasting, and singing under the stars. In areas north of 50 degrees latitude, the night sky never becomes completely dark at the Summer Solstice (which took place last Saturday, June 20th @ 4:44 PM CDT), resulting in a faint twilight glow that lingers all through the night.



In European folklore, it was believed that Midsummer Eve was when all the Fair Folk (elves, faeries, dryads, etc.) held midnight revels to celebrate the high point of the year. (This folk belief is reflected in Shakespeare’s comedy, A Midsummer Night’s Dream.) So in this annual Midsummer edition of Quotemail, we have some poems about things that one might expect to see on Midsummer Eve – Fair Folk, fireflies, and all things enchanting!



“The Faery Book”

By Abbie Farwell Brown (1871-1927)



When Mother takes the Faery Book

And we curl up to hear,

'Tis "All aboard for Faeryland!"

Which seems to be so near.



For soon we reach the pleasant place

Of Once Upon a Time,

Where birdies sing the hour of day,

And flowers talk in rhyme;



Where Bobby is a velvet Prince,

And where I am a Queen;

Where one can talk with animals,

And walk about unseen;



Where Little People live in nuts,

And ride on butterflies,

And wonders kindly come to pass

Before your very eyes;



Where candy grows on every bush,

And playthings on the trees,

And visitors pick basketfuls

As often as they please.



It is the nicest time of day -

Though Bedtime is so near, -

When Mother takes the Faery Book

And we curl up to hear.



“The Flowers”

By Robert Louis Stevenson (1850-1894)

From A Child's Garden of Verses (1885)



All the names I know from nurse:

Gardener's garters, Shepherd's purse,

Bachelor's buttons, Lady's smock,

And the Lady Hollyhock.



Faery places, faery things,

Faery woods where the wild bee wings,

Tiny trees for tiny dames--

These must all be faery names!



Tiny woods below whose boughs

Shady faeries weave a house;

Tiny tree-tops, rose or thyme,

Where the braver faeries climb!



Fair are grown-up people's trees,

But the fairest woods are these;

Where, if I were not so tall,

I should live for good and all.



“The Firefly”

By Evaleen Stein (1863-1923)


Flash and flicker and fly away,
Trailing light as you flutter far,
Are you a lamp for the faeries, say?
Or a flake of fire from a falling star?



“Faery Rings”

By Evaleen Stein

[This poem explains how people before the Space Age explained the origin of “crop circles.” Truly, there’s nothing new under the Sun! – RHC] J



Softly in the gloaming
Flitting through the vale,
Faery folk are roaming
Over hill and dale.

Pixies in the hollow,
Elves upon the height,
Let us follow, follow
Through the paling light.

Follow, all unbidden,
To the grassy glade
Wrapped around and hidden
In the forest shade.

Hark the elfin tinkle
Of their little lutes!
Mark the golden twinkle
Of their faery flutes!

See them dancing, dancing,
While the silver moon
Tips their swiftly glancing
Little silver shoon!

Tripping, tripping lightly,
Where their footprints fall,
Look! the grass is brightly
Growing green and tall!

Springing close, unbroken,
In a faery ring,
For tomorrow’s token
Of their frolicking!



“What If?”

By Evaleen Stein

[Look for the waxing crescent Moon just after sunset, in the twilit western sky tonight. – RHC]



When I see the new moon lightly

  Through cloud ripples slip,

Then I'm sure that shining brightly

  It's a faery ship!



What if in it we were sailing

  Far and far away,

With a wake of silver trailing,

  Till the golden day?



Why, we'd fly back home together

  Safely from the sky,

For the Moon's a faery feather

  When the Sun is high!



“Faeries”

By Evaleen Stein



Grandfather says that sometimes,

  When stars are twinkling and

A new moon shines, there come times

  When folks see faery-land!



So when there's next a new moon,

  I mean to watch all night!

Grandfather says a blue moon

  Is best for faery light,



And in a peach-bloom, maybe,

  If I look I shall see

A little faery baby

  No bigger than a bee!



“Faery Song” (Excerpted from Flower Fables, 1855)

By Louisa May Alcott (1832-1888)



The moonlight fades from flower and tree,

And the stars dim one by one;

The tale is told, the song is sung,

And the Faery feast is done.

The night-wind rocks the sleeping flowers,

And sings to them, soft and low.

The early birds erelong will wake:

‘Tis time for the Elves to go.

        

O’er the sleeping earth we silently pass,

Unseen by mortal eye,

And send sweet dreams, as we lightly float

Through the quiet moonlit sky;--

For the stars’ soft eyes alone may see,

And the flowers alone may know,

The feasts we hold, the tales we tell:

So ‘tis time for the Elves to go.

        

From bird, and blossom, and bee,

We learn the lessons they teach;

And seek, by kindly deeds, to win

A loving friend in each.

And though unseen on earth we dwell,

Sweet voices whisper low,

And gentle hearts most joyously greet

The Elves where’er they go.

        

When next we meet in the Faery dell,

May the silver moon’s soft light

Shine then on faces gay as now,

And Elfin hearts as light.

Now spread each wing, for the eastern sky

With sunlight soon will glow.

The morning star shall light us home:

Farewell! for the Elves must go.




DEDICATION

This Merry Midsummer Eve edition of Quotemail is dedicated to all my friends at the Center for Children’s Books at the University of Illinois. Please visit them @ http://ccb.ischool.illinois.edu to learn more about their programs and publications highlighting the best new literature for children and young adults.



Merry Midsummer Eve, everyone! J



Rob

Friday, June 12, 2020

Two 155th Anniversaries in June 2020


Hello everyone –



The month of June includes two noteworthy 155th anniversaries that are celebrated in this edition of Quotemail.



The Irish poet, essayist, and folklorist William Butler Yeats (1865-1939) was born 150 years ago this Saturday, June 13th. Yeats was a literary luminary who helped to spearhead the “Keltik Renaissance” of the late 19th century in Ireland, paving the way for a greater appreciation and study of Irish literature and mythology in the 20th century. Here’s my favorite poem by Mr. Yeats.



“The Song of Wandering Aengus” (1899)

By William Butler Yeats (1865-1939)

Editor’s Note: From the Emerald Isle comes this love-quest poem inspired by classical Irish mythology (see http://www.maryjones.us/ctexts/oengus.html). Yeats’ poem in turn served as the basis of “Rogue Planet,” the 18th episode of the 1st season of STAR TREK: ENTERPRISE.



I went out to the hazel wood,

Because a fire was in my head,

And cut and peeled a hazel wand,

And hooked a berry to a thread;

And when white moths were on the wing,

And moth-like stars were flickering out,

I dropped the berry in a stream

And caught a little silver trout.



When I had laid it on the floor

I went to blow the fire a-flame,

But something rustled on the floor,

And someone called me by my name:

It had become a glimmering girl

With apple blossom in her hair

Who called me by my name and ran

And faded through the brightening air.

 

Though I am old with wandering

Through hollow lands and hilly lands,

I will find out where she has gone,

And kiss her lips and take her hands;

And walk among long dappled grass,

And pluck till time and times are done,

The silver apples of the Moon,

The golden apples of the Sun.



Juneteenth (next Friday, June 19th) is an upcoming patriotic holiday that celebrates the proclamation of freedom given to African-American slaves in Texas on June 19, 1865. These were the last slaves to be freed in the American South after the conclusion of the Civil War two months before. The observance of Juneteenth, at first focused in Texas, has since spread all over the United States. In our own century, Juneteenth serves to remind us of the plight of millions of people throughout the world who still need liberation from the bondage of slavery.



In honor of the 155th anniversary of Juneteenth, and of all the heroes who have sought to abolish the slave trade from ancient times to the present, here is a “culture vulture” article that I penned several years ago for the honors newsletter about Sojourner Truth, Harriet Tubman, the abolitionist movement, and the Underground Railroad.



Sojourner Truth and Harriet Tubman: Leaders and Liberators

By Rob Chappell

Reprinted from CURSUS HONORUM (COURSE OF HONORS) IX: 8 (March 2009)

       In honor of Women’s History Month, the I would like to share the stories of two women who were prominent leaders in the American abolitionist and women’s suffrage movements during the nineteenth century. These courageous leaders have inspired countless women after them to work for liberty, justice, and equality for all people. The two African-American heroes highlighted in this article are Sojourner Truth (1797-1883) and Harriet Tubman (1820-1913).

       Sojourner Truth (originally named Isabella Baumfree) was born a slave in upstate New York, at a time when slavery had not yet been abolished throughout the North. She obtained her freedom in 1826 and worked at various jobs until she found her lifelong vocation in 1843: campaigning for human rights. On June 1 of that year, she changed her name to Sojourner Truth and began traveling and speaking throughout the northeastern states. During the 1840s and 1850s, she enthralled hundreds of audiences with her spirited addresses advocating the abolition of slavery and women’s suffrage, while her autobiography (NARRATIVE OF SOJOURNER TRUTH, A NORTHERN SLAVE), published in 1850, continued to galvanize the abolitionist movement.

       Truth’s most famous address, AIN’T I A WOMAN, was delivered before the Ohio Women’s Rights Convention in Akron during 1851. She worked for the Union Army and the Freedmen’s Bureau in Washington, DC during the Civil War and continued her speaking tours on behalf of women’s suffrage until her eventual retirement in Battle Creek, Michigan. Because of her championing of equal rights for African-Americans and for all women, she became known as the “Miriam of the Latter Exodus.”

       Harriet Tubman (originally named Araminta Ross) was born a slave on the Eastern Shore of Maryland. After escaping to freedom in Pennsylvania at the age of 29, she returned to Maryland several times to liberate other slaves. Tubman became a “conductor” on the Underground Railroad, clandestinely leading Southern slaves to freedom in the northern United States or in British Canada, where slavery had been abolished since 1833. She conveyed secret messages to her “passengers” on the Underground Railroad through songs like “Follow the Drinking Gourd.” This ingenious piece of music taught runaway slaves how to use the Big Dipper to find the North Star, which would guide their nocturnal journeys to freedom in the northern United States or British Canada:



“When the Sun comes back,

And the first quail calls,

Follow the Drinking Gourd.

For the old man is a-waiting

For to carry you to freedom,

If you follow the Drinking Gourd.”



       During the Civil War, Tubman served in the Union Army as a scout and guide, and in June 1863, she became the first woman in American history to lead a combat operation, in which hundreds of slaves were liberated in South Carolina. After the Civil War, she worked tirelessly for women’s suffrage and full equality for African-Americans, finally obtaining a government pension after decades of struggle in 1899. She made her home in Auburn, New York – the center of her humanitarian work for the last 44 years of her life.

       The legacy of Sojourner Truth and Harriet Tubman continues today as courageous women of the 21st century work, as Sojourner Truth said, “to set [the world] right side up again.” Through writing, speaking, researching, and volunteering, the successors of these two liberating leaders are helping all of us to build a brighter future for all people.



Webliography

•       http://www.sojournertruth.org/Default.htm (Sojourner Truth Institute)

•       http://www.harriettubman.com/index.html (Harriet Tubman Infohub)

•       http://www.freedomcenter.org/ (National Underground Railroad Freedom Center)

•       http://quest.arc.nasa.gov/ltc/special/mlk/gourd2.html (Text of “Follow the Drinking Gourd” with Commentary from NASA)

•       http://nationaljuneteenth.com/ (National Juneteenth Observance Foundation)



I look forward to seeing Harriet Tubman’s portrait on a future $20 bill!



Until next time –

Rob


Friday, May 29, 2020

Memorial Day


Hello everyone –



In this edition of Quotemail, we remember all our departed heroes, from many times and climes, those whom we have known and loved, and those whom we have never had the honor to know personally, but to whom we are nonetheless deeply grateful for their service and sacrifice.



The observance of Memorial Day (originally known as Decoration Day) began in the aftermath of the American Civil War. It was first widely observed in both North and South on May 30, 1868. In my family, this is a day to remember my Dad and all my uncles – all of whom were veterans of the World War II era – and my maternal grandfather, a veteran of the First American Expeditionary Force in World War I. Here are a few poems and reflections to remind us of all the heroes who have died in defense of our country – not only during the Civil War, but also before and after.



“In Great Deeds” by Joshua Chamberlain (1828-1914, Union General from Maine)

In great deeds, something abides. On great fields, something stays. Forms change and pass; bodies disappear; but spirits linger, to consecrate ground for the vision-place of souls. … Generations that know us not and that we know not of, heart-drawn to see where and by whom great things were suffered and done for them, shall come to this deathless field, to ponder and dream; and lo! The shadow of a mighty presence shall wrap them in its bosom, and the power of the vision pass into their souls.



“Decoration Day”

By Evaleen Stein (1863-1923)



See the soldiers, little ones!

   Hark the drummers' beat!

See them with their flags and guns

   Marching down the street!



Tattered flags from out the wars,

   Let us follow these

To the little stripes and stars

   Twinkling through the trees.



Watch them waving through the grass

   Where the heroes sleep!

Thither gently let us pass

   On this day we keep.



Let us bring our blossoms, too,

   All our gardens grow;

Lilacs honey-sweet with dew,

   And the lilies' snow.



Every posy of the May,

   Every bloomy stem,

Every bud that breaks to-day

   Gather now for them.



Lay the lilies o’er them thus,

   Lovingly, for so

Down they laid their lives for us,

   Long and long ago.



Heap above them bud and bough;

   Softly, ere we cease,

God, we pray Thee, gently now

   Fold them in Thy peace!



“For the Fallen”

By Robert Laurence Binyon (1869-1943)

Published in The London Times on 21 September 1914



With proud thanksgiving, a mother for her children,

England mourns for her dead across the sea.

Flesh of her flesh they were, spirit of her spirit,

Fallen in the cause of the free.

Solemn the drums thrill: Death august and royal

Sings sorrow up into immortal spheres.

There is music in the midst of desolation

And a glory that shines upon our tears.

They went with songs to the battle, they were young,

Straight of limb, true of eye, steady and aglow.

They were staunch to the end against odds uncounted,

They fell with their faces to the foe.

They shall grow not old, as we that are left grow old:

Age shall not weary them, nor the years condemn.

At the going down of the sun and in the morning

We will remember them.

They mingle not with their laughing comrades again;

They sit no more at familiar tables of home;

They have no lot in our labor of the day-time;

They sleep beyond England's foam.

But where our desires are and our hopes profound,

Felt as a well-spring that is hidden from sight,

To the innermost heart of their own land they are known

As the stars are known to the Night;

As the stars that shall be bright when we are dust,

Moving in marches upon the heavenly plain,

As the stars that are starry in the time of our darkness,

To the end, to the end, they remain.



Requiescant in pace. (May they rest in peace.)



Hroberahtus (Rob)


Friday, May 15, 2020

A Poetical Salute to the Class of 2020!


Hello everyone –



This fortnight’s quotations are dedicated to all our listmembers who are receiving their academic degrees as members of the Class of 2020. These are some of my all-time favorite pieces of poetical wisdom, packaged together just for you.




“If” by Rudyard Kipling (1865-1936)



If you can keep your head when all about you

Are losing theirs and blaming it on you,

If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you,

But make allowance for their doubting too;

If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,

Or being lied about, don’t deal in lies,

Or being hated, don’t give way to hating,

And yet don’t look too good, nor talk too wise:



If you can dream — and not make dreams your master;

If you can think — and not make thoughts your aim;

If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster

And treat those two impostors just the same;

If you can bear to hear the truth you've spoken

Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,

Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken,

And stoop and build them up with worn-out tools:



If you can make one heap of all your winnings

And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss,

And lose, and start again at your beginnings

And never breathe a word about your loss;

If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew

To serve your turn long after they are gone,

And so hold on when there is nothing in you

Except the Will which says to them: “Hold on!”



If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,

Or walk with Kings — nor lose the common touch,

If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you,

If all men count with you, but none too much;

If you can fill the unforgiving minute

With sixty seconds’ worth of distance run,

Yours is the Earth and everything that’s in it,

And — which is more — you’ll be a Man, my son.




“The Heritage”

By Abbie Farwell Brown (1871-1927)



No matter what my birth may be,

No matter where my lot is cast,

I am the heir in equity

Of all the precious Past.



The art, the science, and the lore

Of all the ages long since dust,

The wisdom of the world in store,

Are mine, all mine in trust.



The beauty of the living Earth,

The power of the golden Sun,

The Present, whatsoe’er my birth,

I share with everyone.



As much as any man am I

The owner of the working day;

Mine are the minutes as they fly

To save or throw away.



And mine the Future to bequeath

Unto the generations new;

I help to shape it with my breath,

Mine as I think or do.



Present and Past my heritage,

The Future laid in my control; —

No matter what my name or age,

I am a Master-soul!




“THE HIGHER LIFE” (1913)

By Madeline S. Brigham



There are royal hearts, there are spirits brave,

There are souls that are pure and true;

Then give to the world the best you have,

And the best will come back to you.



Give love, and love to your life will flow,

And strength in your utmost needs;

Have faith, and a score of hearts will show

Their faith in your work and deeds.



Give truth, and your gift will be paid in kind,

And a song a song will meet;

And the smile which is sweet will surely find

A smile that is just as sweet.



Give pity and sorrow to those that mourn,

You will gather in flowers again

The scattered seeds from your thoughts outborne,

Though the sowing seemed in vain.



For life is the mirror of king and knave,

‘Tis just what we are and do;

Then give to the world the best you have,

And the best will come back to you.





Until we meet again – Ultreia! (Onward!)



Rob J




Friday, May 1, 2020

Happy May Day! :)


Hello everyone –



Today is May Day – that pivotal date in the traditional agricultural calendar systems of NW Europe which marked the end of the “winter half” of the year and the start of the “summer half” of the year. It was a time for dancing around the Maypole, singing under the stars, and kindling bonfires on hilltops to celebrate the planting season and welcome in the warm weather. It was also one of those days on which the Fair Folk were actively celebrating the changing of the seasons, too – with midnight revels that included moonlight dances and Otherworldly music! In recognition of all these festive happenings, here’s an article that I wrote about the Fair Folk many years ago for the ACES James Scholars, along with an early poem by J. R. R. Tolkien about an Elvish minstrel named Tinfang Warble.





“The Lost Road to Faerie: Where Science and Folklore Meet”

By Rob Chappell, Editor

Excerpted from Cursus Honorum VII: 10 (May 2007)

       From prehistoric times until the rise of modern science, most human beings regarded the world as an enchanted place. Fabulous beasties like dragons and unicorns roamed along the edges of medieval maps; the stars were animated by “intelligences” that guided them in their celestial circuits; and the “Fair Folk” resided in the depths of caves or beneath hollow hills. With the advent of the scientific and industrial revolutions, belief in such things waned throughout much of the Western world, to be replaced by a reliance on science and reason. Traditional folk beliefs have often been derided as superstitious nonsense, but every once in a while, scientific research uncovers evidence that the folk beliefs of yesteryear might once have had a basis in reality.



Up the airy mountain,

Down the rushy glen,

We dare not go a-hunting

For fear of little men;

Wee folk, good folk

Trooping all together;

Green jacket, red cap,

And a white owl's feather.

-- “The Fairies” by William Allingham (1824-1889)



       Such a discovery occurred in 2003, when a team of Australian and Indonesian paleoanthropologists unearthed the fossilized remains of eight prehistoric humans on the Indonesian island of Flores. What is so remarkable about these people is that they stood only three feet tall – yet they were fully-grown adults! They belonged to a newly classified human species – Homo Floresiensis – that lived alongside modern humans (Homo Sapiens) on Flores from 50,000 to perhaps 500 years ago.

       These recently discovered people – hailed as “Hobbits” in the popular press – are apparently an offshoot of previous human populations that had rafted over to the Indonesian archipelago at an even earlier date. According to evidence collected on Flores, these “Hobbits” (named after the halfling heroes in J. R. R. Tolkien’s Middle-Earth legendarium) were fully human in their abilities and behavior. They made sophisticated tools, used fire, hunted, fished, and (based on their anatomy) possessed the power of articulate speech. According to the Flores islanders’ folklore, these prehistoric people might have survived until the arrival of Dutch explorers in the 16th century.

       How do these recent scientific discoveries intersect with ancient folk beliefs? People from all over the world have been telling stories about the “Wee Folk” – faeries, gnomes, leprechauns, etc. – since the beginning of recorded history. These tales tell of small humanlike individuals who dwelt in caves or within hollow hills. These “Fair Folk” or “Good People,” as they were euphemistically called, lived in communities ruled by monarchs or chieftains, and they were adept at many crafts (such as mining or shoemaking). Their alleged healing abilities, musical artistry, and ability to “disappear” without fanfare when one of us “Big People” came wandering along may have led our ancestors to regard them as magical creatures instead of fellow human beings. These habits of the “Wee Folk” may also have had the unfortunate effect of making our ancestors fear and shun them.

       The possible extinction of Homo Floresiensis in historical times might be reflected in a recurrent folkloric motif about the disappearance of the “Wee Folk” from everyday experience, as in the opening lines of Geoffrey Chaucer’s (1340-1400) “Wife of Bath’s Tale”:



In the old time of King Arthur,

Of whom the Britons speak with great honor,

All this land was filled full of Faerie;

The Elf Queen, with her jolly company,

Danced full oft in many a green mead.

This was the old opinion, as I read;

I speak of many hundred years ago,

But now no one can see the elves, you know.



       Of course, the identification of the “Wee Folk” from faerie lore with Homo Floresiensis is somewhat speculative at this point. Nonetheless, we should bear in mind that many legends have been found to have a basis in fact, and that some activities and characteristics of our halfling human cousins might have found their way into traditional faerie tales. Perhaps contemporary folklorists will want to collaborate with paleoanthropologists and reexamine the faerie lore of long ago and faraway to see what “data” might be gleaned from worldwide folklore about our diminutive prehistoric kindred. To learn more about how Homo Floresiensis could have been (mis)perceived by our ancestors, you might enjoy visiting the following resources:



Related Links of Interest




“Over Old Hills and Far Away” (1915)

By J. R. R. Tolkien (1892-1973)



It was early and still in the night of June,

And few were the stars, and far was the Moon,

The drowsy trees drooping, and silently creeping

Shadows woke under them while they were sleeping.



I stole to the window with stealthy tread

Leaving my white and unpressed bed;

And something alluring, aloof and queer,

Like perfume of flowers from the shores of the mere

That in Elvenhome lies, and in starlit rains

Twinkles and flashes, came up to the panes

Of my high lattice-window. Or was it a sound?

I listened and marveled with eyes on the ground.

For there came from afar a filtered note

Enchanting sweet, now clear, now remote,

As clear as a star in a pool by the reeds,

As faint as the glimmer of dew on the weeds.



Then I left the window and followed the call

Down the creaking stairs and across the hall

Out through a door that swung tall and grey,

And over the lawn, and away, away!



It was Tinfang Warble that was dancing there,

Fluting and tossing his old white hair,

Till it sparkled like frost in a winter moon;

And the stars were about him, and blinked to his tune

Shimmering blue like sparks in a haze,

As always they shimmer and shake when he plays.



My feet only made there the ghost of a sound

On the shining white pebbles that ringed him round,

Where his little feet flashed on a circle of sand,

And the fingers were white on his flickering hand.

In the wink of a star he had leapt in the air

With his fluttering cap and his glistening hair;

And had cast his long flute right over his back,

Where it hung by a ribbon of silver and black.



His slim little body went fine as a shade,

And he slipped through the reeds like mist in the glade;

And laughed like thin silver, and piped a thin note,

As he flapped in the shadows his shadowy coat.

O! the toes of his slippers were twisted and curled,

But he danced like a wind out into the world.



He is gone, and the valley is empty and bare

Where lonely I stand and lonely I stare.

Then suddenly out in the meadows beyond,

Then back in the reeds by the shimmering pond,

Then afar from a copse were the mosses are thick

A few little notes came a trillaping quick.



I leapt o’er the stream and I sped from the glade,

For Tinfang Warble it was that played;

I must follow the hoot of his twilight flute

Over reed, over rush, under branch, over root,

And over dim fields, and through rustling grasses

That murmur and nod as the old elf passes,

Over old hills and far away

Where the harps of the Elvenfolk softly play.



Wishing everyone a merry month of May –



Rob J


Saturday, April 18, 2020

245 Years Ago Tonight: Paul Revere's Ride!


Hello everyone –



In addition to the sacred festivals that dance through different dates on the calendar each year, the month of April also has a patriotic holiday dedicated to the remembrance of the epoch-making events that led to the founding of our nation 244 years ago. In this edition of Quotemail, I am featuring poems about Patriots’ Day, a New England observance that takes place on the third Monday of April. In these memorable verses, both Longfellow and Emerson – two New England poets – commemorate the first battle of the American Revolution on April 19, 1775, and the significant adventure leading up to it on the night before – 245 years ago TONIGHT!



“Paul Revere’s Ride” (1860)

By Henry Wadsworth Longfellow (1807-1882)



Listen my children and you shall hear
Of the midnight ride of Paul Revere,
On the eighteenth of April, in Seventy-five;
Hardly a man is now alive
Who remembers that famous day and year.

He said to his friend, "If the British march
By land or sea from the town to-night,
Hang a lantern aloft in the belfry arch
Of the North Church tower as a signal light,--
One if by land, and two if by sea;
And I on the opposite shore will be,
Ready to ride and spread the alarm
Through every Middlesex village and farm,
For the country folk to be up and to arm."

Then he said "Good-night!" and with muffled oar
Silently rowed to the Charlestown shore,
Just as the moon rose over the bay,
Where swinging wide at her moorings lay
The Somerset, British man-of-war;
A phantom ship, with each mast and spar
Across the moon like a prison bar,
And a huge black hulk, that was magnified
By its own reflection in the tide.

Meanwhile, his friend through alley and street
Wanders and watches, with eager ears,
Till in the silence around him he hears
The muster of men at the barrack door,
The sound of arms, and the tramp of feet,
And the measured tread of the grenadiers,
Marching down to their boats on the shore.

Then he climbed the tower of the Old North Church,
By the wooden stairs, with stealthy tread,
To the belfry chamber overhead,
And startled the pigeons from their perch
On the somber rafters, that round him made
Masses and moving shapes of shade,--
By the trembling ladder, steep and tall,
To the highest window in the wall,
Where he paused to listen and look down
A moment on the roofs of the town
And the moonlight flowing over all.

Beneath, in the churchyard, lay the dead,
In their night encampment on the hill,
Wrapped in silence so deep and still
That he could hear, like a sentinel's tread,
The watchful night-wind, as it went
Creeping along from tent to tent,
And seeming to whisper, "All is well!"
A moment only he feels the spell
Of the place and the hour, and the secret dread
Of the lonely belfry and the dead;
For suddenly all his thoughts are bent
On a shadowy something far away,
Where the river widens to meet the bay,--
A line of black that bends and floats
On the rising tide like a bridge of boats.

Meanwhile, impatient to mount and ride,
Booted and spurred, with a heavy stride
On the opposite shore walked Paul Revere.
Now he patted his horse's side,
Now he gazed at the landscape far and near,
Then, impetuous, stamped the earth,
And turned and tightened his saddle girth;
But mostly he watched with eager search
The belfry tower of the Old North Church,
As it rose above the graves on the hill,
Lonely and spectral and somber and still.
And lo! as he looks, on the belfry's height
A glimmer, and then a gleam of light!
He springs to the saddle, the bridle he turns,
But lingers and gazes, till full on his sight
A second lamp in the belfry burns.

A hurry of hoofs in a village street,
A shape in the moonlight, a bulk in the dark,
And beneath, from the pebbles, in passing, a spark
Struck out by a steed flying fearless and fleet;
That was all! And yet, through the gloom and the light,
The fate of a nation was riding that night;
And the spark struck out by that steed, in his flight,
Kindled the land into flame with its heat.
He has left the village and mounted the steep,
And beneath him, tranquil and broad and deep,
Is the Mystic, meeting the ocean tides;
And under the alders that skirt its edge,
Now soft on the sand, now loud on the ledge,
Is heard the tramp of his steed as he rides.

It was twelve by the village clock
When he crossed the bridge into Medford town.
He heard the crowing of the cock,
And the barking of the farmer's dog,
And felt the damp of the river fog,
That rises after the sun goes down.

It was one by the village clock,
When he galloped into Lexington.
He saw the gilded weathercock
Swim in the moonlight as he passed,
And the meeting-house windows, black and bare,
Gaze at him with a spectral glare,
As if they already stood aghast
At the bloody work they would look upon.

It was two by the village clock,
When he came to the bridge in Concord town.
He heard the bleating of the flock,
And the twitter of birds among the trees,
And felt the breath of the morning breeze
Blowing over the meadow brown.
And one was safe and asleep in his bed
Who at the bridge would be first to fall,
Who that day would be lying dead,
Pierced by a British musket ball.

You know the rest. In the books you have read
How the British Regulars fired and fled,---
How the farmers gave them ball for ball,
From behind each fence and farmyard wall,
Chasing the redcoats down the lane,
Then crossing the fields to emerge again
Under the trees at the turn of the road,
And only pausing to fire and load.

So through the night rode Paul Revere;
And so through the night went his cry of alarm
To every Middlesex village and farm,---
A cry of defiance, and not of fear,
A voice in the darkness, a knock at the door,
And a word that shall echo for evermore!
For, borne on the night-wind of the Past,
Through all our history, to the last,
In the hour of darkness and peril and need,
The people will waken and listen to hear
The hurrying hoof-beats of that steed,
And the midnight message of Paul Revere.



“Concord Hymn” (1837)

By Ralph Waldo Emerson (1803-1882)



By the rude bridge that arched the flood,
Their flag to April’s breeze unfurled,
Here once the embattled farmers stood,
And fired the shot heard round the world.

The foe long since in silence slept;
Alike the conqueror silent sleeps;
And Time the ruined bridge has swept
Down the dark stream which seaward creeps.

On this green bank, by this soft stream,
We set to-day a votive stone;
That memory may their deed redeem,
When, like our sires, our sons are gone.

Spirit, that made those heroes dare,
To die, and leave their children free,
Bid Time and Nature gently spare
The shaft we raise to them and Thee.



You can watch an animated music video based on this poem (Schoolhouse Rock’s “The Shot Heard Round the World”) @ http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Y6ikO6LMxF4.



ADDENDUM: “The Liberty Tree” (1775)

By Thomas Paine (1737-1809)

Editor’s Note: This poem was written to “rally the troops” and garner support for the American Revolution after British troops chopped down the “Liberty Tree” that stood near Boston Commons in 1775. The 129-year-old tree, after its death, became a powerful symbol for the Continental Army and was displayed on numerous American flags throughout the Revolution.



1. In a chariot of light from the regions of day,

The goddess of Liberty came,

Ten thousand celestials directed her way,

And hither conducted the dame.

A fair budding branch from the gardens above,

Where millions with millions agree,

She brought in her hand as a pledge of her love,

And the plant she named Liberty Tree.



2. The celestial exotic stuck deep in the ground,

Like a native it flourished and bore;

The fame of its fruit drew the nations around

To seek out this peaceable shore.

Unmindful of names or distinctions they came,

For freemen like brothers agree;

With one Spirit endued, they one friendship pursued,

And their temple was Liberty Tree.



3. But hear, O ye swains (‘tis a tale most profane),

How all the tyrannical powers,

Kings, Commons, and Lords, are uniting amain

To cut down this guardian of ours.

From the east to the west blow the trumpet to arms,

Through the land let the sound of it flee:

Let the far and the near all unite with a cheer,

In defense of our Liberty Tree.



Enjoy the springtime weather outside this weekend! :)



Until next time –

Rob