Thursday, January 1, 2015

2014 Book Roundup

Fiction
Double Indemnity by Cain: Fred MacMurray and Barbara Stanwyck played their parts superbly in the 1950s Hollywood production of this story.  Read it and weep--he threw his life away because he lusted after a cold calculating user of a woman he barely knew.

How the West Was Won by L'Amour: This is a formulaic Western.  The good guys meet the bad guys in the vast unsettled landscape of 19th century Western America.  Trappers, cowboys, railroad men, lawmen, Indians, loose women, desirable women--they're all here in the pages of the book.  Nevertheless, I enjoyed it.  And I plan to finally watch this movie which was made about 1968.

The Maze Runner by Dashner: Teenage boys find themselves living in a dystopian society without memory of their former lives.  Monsters lurk to destroy them, and the deep tension brings out the Lord of the Flies type of situation.  When Thomas is put in The Glade, he injects new life into the efforts of the boys to find a way out, a way back to wherever they came from.  Anywhere would be better than this place.
The Scorch Trials by Dashner: Sequel to The Maze Runner.  The same group of boys suffers through more horrible experiences while striving to understand their role in the ruined world they dwell in.  Pretty good.
The Death Cure by Dashner: Third in series.  Thomas and his friends finally get to the nitty gritty.  They challenge WICKED, they act for the greater good, and they are in some sense, successful in achieving a dystopian "happy ending."

The Art of Hearing Heartbeats by Sendker: a Burmese man and woman fall in love.  He is blind, she is unable to walk.  He is forced to move to America and leaves her behind.  50 years later he returns to her.  I was impressed by the true-ness of the love they had for each other, and how the author presents this culture where people had time for each other.  We, in our task-oriented culture, fall short in this way.  I experienced some touching and valuable thoughts reading the book, even though I don't migrate to this kind of story.

Endangered by Littlewood: I read this after our newspaper reviewed it, which they did because it is based right here in PDX.  It's an average novel about a woman who works as a zookeeper and becomes involved in a case of illegal animal trafficking.  I mean, she wasn't doing anything illegal.  She was trying to protect the cache of animals that was discovered after a drug raid in her area.  I resent the author's effort to insert "adult" material that only diminishes the story.  The "f" word is used a few times, and the protagonist hops into the sack w/ a man she has seen twice, and calls it fun.  The joke was on her because . . . well, no spoilers here.

20,000 Leagues Under the Sea by Verne: Wow, I can see why this book was so well received 150 years ago.  Verne's fantastic concoction of a submarine captained by a man determined to eschew all contact with the surface world, is imaginative and adventurous.  He masterly describes sea life, a hunting expedition in a sea forest, meeting strange creatures in the great deep, and what happens when a sub is trapped under an ice berg.  Amazing stuff for the time, when the word submarine referred to everything under the ocean, not to a powered vehicle that could remain submerged for weeks.

Heart of Darkness by Conrad: I get the story, but not why this is such a touted book.  Help me out here.
The Woman in White by Collins: A great 19th century mystery.  It took some chapters to get into the story and learn the characters and their roles.  But then I was hooked.  A mysterious woman who dresses only in white appears in the lives of several characters.  Some are caring and sympathetic toward her without knowing much about her.  Others are threatened by her presence because they do know who she is.  Crime is committed, people are endangered and hurt.  The protagonist puts himself in danger to save the woman he loves.  Good story.

The Moonstone by Wilkie Collins: A cursed jewel taints the life of all who come in contact with it.  Short, intriguing.  Recommend.

The Dead in Their Vaulted Arches by Bradley: Flavia de Luce.  A little far-fetched so this one is a notch below the others, but still a good continuation of the series.

The Day of the Jackal by Forsyth: Suspenseful novel about a planned assassination of French president Charles DeGaulle in 1963, based on some genuine attempts on his life that occurred in the early 60s.  I don't know how DG lived long as he did because just about everyone was out to get him.  I could hardly put down this book.  Intrigue and suspense galore.  On the down side, there are a couple of short, graphic scenes and some language, then chapters and chapters without.

The Return of the Dancing Master by Mankell: Intriguing plot of 2 murders in quiet Norwegian town.  A detective who is on leave from his department in another town because he's facing cancer treatment, gets involved on his own in searching for patterns and ultimately, the killer.  It's a good story, but I got a little tired of him going back to his fear of cancer so frequently.  At one point he thought of ending his life before his fight with the disease had even begun.  Yet the book has all the elements of a good mystery.

The Rainbow Trail by Gray: Continuation of Riders of the Purple Sage.  I love the Western-ness of Gray's stories.  The landscape always plays out as a character.  The Mormons are the really bad guys in this story and that makes sense, given the time period it was written.  Good story.

The Historian by Kostkova: I love the setting, the mystery, and the process of solving it.  The vampire-ness of it is a little far fetched but the skillful weaving of the story almost negates that.  Don't be off-put by the low-budget cover.

The Garden of Evening Mists by Eng: Malay woman heals from war trauma by working with a Japanese gardener.  Gardener here doesn't mean someone who plants annuals and calls it good.  He designs gardens on a spiritual level.  It's a meaningful story.

A Death in the Family by Agee: An acclaimed autobiographical story of an unexpected death in America, written in the 30s.  Much has changed.  Even now we could do better dealing with death.

The Life of Pi by Martel: I was enchanted by the movie and just had to read the book.   It's just as enchanting and riveting and deep.  I'll be pondering this one for a while.

The Hundred-Foot Journey by Morais: Culinary journey from Bombay to Paris involving Indian man who becomes a French chef against all odds.  Good story.

A River in the Sky by Peters: Way too stuffy English for me.  Husband-wife archaeologists travel to Holy Land, son is kidnapped, husband is insufferable, woman is ridiculous.  Part of a series.



Non-Fiction
Quiet--the Power of Introverts in a  World That Can't Stop Talking by Cain: I so so wish this book had been written decades ago.  As a child, teenager and young adult, I suffered uncertainty, embarrassment, and rejection because society convinced me there was something terribly wrong with me.  How many times was I asked, "Why don't you say anything?"  "Don't you like us?"  "Cat got your tongue?"  "It's rude not to participate."  And so on.  At times I uncomfortably pretended to be an extrovert (though we didn't use that word then) and usually ended up looking like a fool.  In Quiet, the author extols the virtues of introverts and encourages individuals and companies to enjoy the thoughtful contributions that can be made by this nearly 50% of the population.  We introverts are not stupid or uninterested; we do have a unique way of approaching situations and problems.  Again and again, the examples she uses could have been taken from my own life.  And she reaffirms the fact that though we introverts can and should learn to function in an extrovert world, we are not required to give up the person we are.
Because I Said So by Jennings: Jeopardy champ Ken Jennings both debunks and proves the myths that we grew up with, and those that rule our lives today.  For example, the 10-second/5-second rule about eating food that has dropped on the floor (don't do it!) (but I still do).  Or my Mom's favorite, your hand/head/foot/other appendage will blow off if you hang it out of the car window (could happen).  I listened to the book on tape read by Jennings himself.  He's a snarky guy and comes across as knowing that he's smarter than the rest of us.  The book is enjoyable and "fun" but after he presented the myth and discussed it, he would rate it true or false (or in between) without re-iterating the basic question.  Because this was audio, I couldn't look back to refresh on the original question.

Bringing Adam Home by Standiford: We all remember the Adam Walsh case in 1981.  And how his parents re-bounded from the horror by establishing organizations dedicated to locating missing children.  They brought the issue front and center, forcing changes in how law enforcement treats these cases.  John Walsh has commented that it was easier for police to locate a stolen car than a stolen child, at that time.  Walsh went on to hose America's Most Wanted which led to the arrest of hundreds of fugitives over a period of years.  Such a poignant story.

Between Good and Evil by Depue: Author made a career out of profiling criminals.  He developed much of the technique used today.  After several decades of being sucked into the worst aspect of mankind, he entered a Catholic seminary to rest his soul and mind.  I appreciated learning how it is that law enforcement can figure out what kind of suspect to look for.  The book mentions some of the horrible things that have happened to people, but through all that the author's pity and compassion for victims and their families comes through.

The Devil's Dozen by Ramsland: Like the previous book, the author goes into some terrible serial murder cases, an even dozen.  Unlike the previous book, the fine details of catching the criminals are skirted over.  More unlike the previous book, she does not insert love, compassion, empathy.  The gross part of each case she presents are given in great detail.  I skipped over plenty of that.  This book was so cold and clinical that I say, don't read it.  I came away feeling there was nothing of value presented.

Five Days At Memorial by Fink: Euthanasia at Memorial Hospital in New Orleans during Katrina is examined.  Very detailed--lots of doctors, lawyers, family members, corporate dudes.  It inspired in me sympathy for the doctors in a terrible spot.  The hospital was without power and water, flood waters surrounded it, rumors of roving gangs committing crimes, helicopters that would take only ambulatory patients, communications were faulty, the hospital corporation wasn't reacting.  The author microscopically examines euthanasia.  Even though doctors may have made the best choice they could at the time of crisis, I am glad it ended up before a grand jury.  We can't ever be complacent about something so important.

Indestructible  by Lucas: The autobiography of a World War 2 Marine Medal of Honor winner.  He enlisted at age 14, and at age 17 on Iwo Jima, threw himself on 2 grenades to save the lives of his comrades.  That won him the M of H and a whole bunch of surgeries and a tough life.  He acknowledges God's hand in his life over and over.  He made a lot of mistakes that brought such difficulties into his life.  Lucas is from the South, and the book is written in an honest and folksy way.

Dad is Fat by McGaffigan: stand-up comedian living in 2-bedroom NY apartment w/ 6 children describes his life.  Amusing, funny.

Jerusalem, the Biography by Montefiore: Wow, this book is loaded with fascinating previously unknown (to me) information about Jerusalem.  The author weaves it all together chronologically using strands of culture, religion, politics, families, archaeology, etc.  Now I need to return for another visit.  Beware, the author reveals the graphic horrors practiced by marauders back in the day.

Murder in Brentwood by Fuhrman: OJ case as seen through the eyes of the maligned LAPD detective Mark Fuhrman.  I'm glad to hear his side.  He explains about mishandling of evidence, his own experience being "put on trial" himself and how he could not possibly have done the crazy things he's accused of, even if he had wanted to.  His life was shredded and there was nothing he could do about it.

The Man in the Rockefeller Suit by Seal: German man creates fake persona and moves in circles of the rich and famous families.   Author did not answer everything as to how this man was so successful.  Part of that may be that he was unable to get the perp to talk explicitly about his methods.  He's obviously brilliant and has no qualms about using people to achieve his ends.  Perp has been implicated in murder.  Liked the book.

The Secret Holocaust Diaries by Nonna Bannister and others: Bannister, a non-Jewish woman who suffered greatly during the Holocaust, revealed her past and her diaries near the end of her life.  Her own family had no idea of her pain and suffering because not only was she silent about her past, but she kept all papers and documents double-locked and hidden until the day she chose to reveal them.  After her death her husband published her story.  She lost everyone in her family, and friends and neighbors too.  Evil does not discriminate by religion, race, or nationality.  I'm grateful she revealed her past before her death when she was able to actually talk to her family about it, rather than have them discover the diaries after her death.

Blood Will Out by Kirn: Another twist on the Clark Rockefeller fraud.  This author knew him, was his friend, and was betrayed in so many ways.  The book is kinda weird.  For instance, this crazy author agreed to drive a crippled and partially paralyzed dog, a dog that would have been happier in puppy heaven, from Montana to NY because Clark Rockefeller wanted the dog for a pet.  Clark pays him a few hundred dollars, must less than it cost Kirn to make the trip, but Kirn goes on being Clark's friend, buying into most every lie and sham that Clark cooks up.  It's worth reading though, and do it after reading Seal's book (above).

10 Things I Learned From Bill Porter by Brady: Bill Porter was a well-known door-to-door salesman in Portland Oregon, and for many years the top seller in his company.  What made him unique is that he had cerebral palsy to the degree that his parents were encouraged to put him in a home, and even to his own salesman-face people suggested he could stay home and collect disability.  But he refused.  He wanted to work.  His life has inspired thousands.  Brady was his long-time assistant so her insight is valuable.

The Meaning of Everything by Winchester: The development of the Oxford English Dictionary.   What was forecast to take less than 10 years took about 75 and it's a miracle it could be done before computers were even thought of.   Contributions of English words and their usage poured in from around the world.  These millions of slips of paper were organized and stored and the dictionary began to appear in installments.  The OED is a marvelous monument to the language that has become the world standard.
Outposts by Winchester: This is an easy-reading book in which the author visits almost every remaining British territory on the planet.  Most are tiny, remote outposts (hence the title), remnants of a once vast empire.

1 Dead in Attic by Rose: Gruesome title of a compilation of post-Katrina newspaper columns by the author, who wrote for the Times-Picayune.   The title refers to the emergency responders' practice of spray painting needs on the outside of dwellings as they searched for survivors.  Recovering the dead was a low priority while there was still a chance of finding living people.  Not every section of this book is riveting (for instance, the parts where he goes on about how great New Orleans is, when it sounds like a living hell for introverts), but enough of it is that you must read it.  We who live far from New Orleans have no idea what ghastly horrors went on in the lives of survivors.

Atlantic by Winchester: Biography of the Atlantic Ocean from the very beginning of time to the present.  Being a west-coaster, I learned a lot about this distant ocean.

Our Magnificent Bastard Tongue by McWhorter: a sometimes hard to read but fascinating book about the development of English.  I'm not a linguist, nor did I ever adore and embrace grammar lessons in English class, but that aside, the author examines English like one would solve a murder mystery and that intrigues me.  He weaves in clues pertaining to English's grammar patterns to determine which other languages had influence in the development of English.  And he debunks old stereotypes.

Katherine Swynford by Weir: Katherine was the wife of the Duke of Lancaster, John of Gaunt, who was the son of King Edward III of England.  Katherine has the distinct honor of being the ancestress of all the monarchs of England for the last 600 years.  Though the author must speculate many times about Katherine's thought and action (necessary as the time period in question is 700 years past, and even as a prominent woman was not extensively written about) and though heavy speculation is not the preferred way to write about an historical figure, I am glad Weir did persevere and give us this biography which provides plenty of insight into those Medieval times.

Angela's Ashes by McCourt: Second reading, only this time I listened to it read by McCourt Himself.  Is their a more amusing and tragic book than Angela's Ashes?  The Irishness of it is genuine to the core.

Serial #1 (12 parts) by Koenig: This is actually a podcast, but feels like a book, and is a riveting true-crime story.  It has people everywhere blogging about it, creating websites for discussion and analysis of the the facts in the case, and it has our family constantly emailing about inconsistencies in the testimonies of various participants in the case, or the meaning or lack of meaning of points of evidence.  If you haven't listened to this, google it and get going.

John Adams by McCullough: I love and honor John Adams and this book is a pretty thorough statement on his remarkable life.  He is one of those people who clearly was meant to live in his place and time, to do his patriotic duty against great odds.  Highly recommend.  On the down side (but no fault of the book), I listened to this lengthy recording and hated the narrator.  His voice was good, but he breathed loud and swallowed loud.  Could some of that not been edited out?  It distracted me big time.


Politics
The Age of Sacred Terror by Benjamin: Yikes, there's a lot of scary stuff in this book.  I have been to Muslim countries and have Muslim friends, so I know that like any other group, the vast majority are sane, hard-working, rational people.  But the fringe radicals exhibit twisted thinking that a Westerner will never comprehend.  And they are not reticent to justify horrible acts by reaching back 1300 years to some obscure act or writing of Mohammed that they think implies he expects them to do horrid things in the name of Allah.  I haven't read the Koran; maybe there are passages like that.  But the Old Testament has them too and modern Christians understand God doesn't desire us to follow that pattern.  Anyway, the author also goes into what the US did and did not do pre-911 about the terrorist threat.   Unfortunately the book is over 10 years old and much has changed in that time, not the least of which was the death of OBL.
The Ministry of Guidance Invites You to Not Stay by Hooman Majd: Title doesn't accurately describe the experience of an Americanized Iranian man bringing his American family to live for a year in Tehran.  He wasn't dis-invited.  Book is a little tiresome and dull.

Lagovina Street by Demick: During the early 90s's 4-year siege of Sarajevo by the Serbs, life "moved on" on Lagovina Street.  This particular street was chosen by the author as a study of life during the siege.  The residents developed coping strategies.  What did they have to cope with?  Shelling, starvation, death and maiming, third world living conditions, freezing weather with no heat, etc.  The focus of the book is on the lives of those affected by appalling conditions and situations brought on by pointless war, rather than on the war itself.  So worth reading.

The House in the Sky by Lindhout: While working as a journalist in Somalia, author was kidnapped for ransom by a gang of teenage Muslim extremists intent on earning buckets of cash to fund their jihad.  Their demands were so outrageous monetarily that her family could not come up with the money for 15 months (when the amount was reduced).  She suffered terribly.  But she employed survival strategies and came out of it the victor, and then founded an organization to provide education in Somalia.  Remarkable, though excruciatingly painful story.

Three Cups of Deceit by Krakauer: Author exposes Greg Mortensen, founder of Central Asian Institute, devoted to building schools in impoverished Pakistani villages.  He claims Mortensen has lied and misused the money donated by good-hearted folks.  It's sad, but appears to be true, that Mortensen did not have the miraculous experiences he claimed, that led him to supposedly do great things.

A Captain's Duty by Phillips: I'll put this book under politics (given the delicate international conditions involved) but it could go under the adventure category as well.  The gripping story has been turned into a pretty good movie [Captain Phillips] which I saw before reading the book.  Phillips captains the Maersk Alabama, a cargo ship which was taken by Somali pirates about 3 years ago.  For a while he outwits his captors, at least long enough to keep the crew safe.  He ends up in a lifeboat with these 4 crazy pirates and comes close to losing his life as tensions mount.  The "living" conditions he survived could have killed people without extra "help" from maniacal pirates and their automatic weapons.  He lived to write this book; I recommend it.


Science and Adventure
Adrift on an Icepan by Grenfell: A hundred years ago this British physician was working in Labrador, serving the fishermen of that forlorn place.  On his way to a medical case via dog sled he finds himself adrift on a fragile ice floe in an angry sea.  What a gripping story!

Worst Journey in the World by Cherry-Garrard: The author was one of those who discovered the bodies of Robert F. Scott and his companions at the South Pole.   Written not quite 100 years ago, he delves into the finest details of Scott's winter journey across Antarctica.  Other explorers could use this book as a manual describing weather and snow conditions as well as terrain and supplies needed to sustain an expedition.  I listened to this on my iPhone and would probably have not been able to wade through it in book form.  As with Into the Silence described below, I'll never understand why people willingly subject themselves to such misery.

Into the Silence by Wade Davis: After WW1 a group of patrician British men decided it was imperative that the British be the first to reach the top of Everest.  The country had been devastated not by battle on their own soil during the war, but by the loss of much of a generation of young men who fell in the mud of France.  Everest beckoned to them as a way to re-inspire a damaged generation, a mourning country.  It seems absurd that the climbers who were chosen were not necessarily those who had the best chance of success.  Class and personal prejudices weighed in the balance as the climbing party was assembled.  Reconnaissance and attempts were made in 1921, 1922, 1924.  The perils of each expedition, personalities and pitfalls of the party, and the misery endured by all is well detailed.

The Map That Changed the World by Winchester: William Smith, a 19th century man interested in earth, basically founds the science of geology by creating a map showing the stratification of England and Scotland.  This is such an interesting and marvelous story, and shows how a very average person with a passion can make a difference in the world.  His findings were invaluable because they paved the way for advances in industry.  Smith, however, suffered from inertia and low self-esteem that held him back until late in life.  Great story.

Death in Yellowstone by Whittlesey: Author has worked at Yellowstone National Park for decades.  He divides the deaths in the Park into categories and reviews each one, using memories of employees, old Park records, newspaper articles, etc.  Lots of them are pretty gruesome, especially ones involving the hot pools and bear attacks.  Though many were simply accidental, plenty of people "brought it on" through carelessness.  Examples of that are hiking alone, not storing food properly which attracts bears, jumping into boiling pools, taking a hike in sub-zero temperatures, etc. People might be repelled by this book, but I found it educational.  I will never again carelessly leave chapstick in my tent while camping in bear country.

The Crack in the World by Winchester: Detailed study understandable to the layman, of the geology of the US.  Focusing on the 1906 Great San Francisco Earthquake, the author embroiders around that event by educating the reader about the physical land on which they live.  I deeply love learning stuff like this.

Alone on the Ice by Roberts: During the age of exploration of Antarctica 100 years ago, a lesser-known expedition organized out of Australia spends a harrowing time on the continent.  It was slow-going for me at first, trying to keep all of the men straight with their quirks and personalities and roles in the expedition.  The author jumped around to other previous expeditions at times, but once I plowed through all of that and even listened to some of it twice, I got the gist of who was who.  One leader named Mawson, survived the impossible--being alone on the ice sheet after his companions had expired, falling into crevasses and saving himself, pushing on when the soles of his feet had fallen off, and so on.  He missed the rescue ship by 6 hours leading to another year in Antarctica.  Wow.


Did Not Finish
Red Storm Rising by Clancy: I'm done w/ Tom Clancy.  The Hunt For Red October was gripping.  In this book every page is full of complicated Russian names, indescribable relationships, chock full of scientific details, all set amid crappy language.  If it wasn't for the latter, I would try harder to plow through it.  But no.  "F" words in every conversation are a deal-breaker.  

Sunday, November 30, 2014

Our Friendly Dog Named Sunny

About 1957 my folks brought this puppy into the family. They named him Sunny. Sunny turned out to be a very friendly dog, as evidenced in this film taken probably early 1958. We've had a ton of laughs watching this.  It was filmed in our backyard of our fairly new house in the San Fernando Valley; this was the first house my Mom ever lived in. She grew up in New York City apartments.

Sadly, Sunny misbehaved in so many ways that he eventually had to go live on a "farm," if you're familiar with that euphemism. His greatest sin was shredding my Dad's dress shirts that Mom hung out on the line. Hard to resist for a sprightly puppy dog, those taunting shirts swinging in the breeze.

I have wondered who took this movie. It's possible my grandparents were visiting from New York, and that Grandpa was taking it. But Gram does not appear in it, so I don't know for sure.

That's my brother and me running around.

Saturday, November 29, 2014

Sherlock Holmes or Inspector Clouseau?

If you are the type of person who enjoys reading or watching mysteries on TV, you have an idea of how police and detectives work to solve the crime of murder.  We know from writers such as P.D. James (RIP) and Raymond Chandler, and programs such as Midsomer Murders, Law and Order, Ironside and Wallender, that homicide investigators treat everyone as a potential suspect, particularly the person who found the body and the last person to see the victim alive.   The authorities thoroughly interview those persons at their home or the crime scene, then the suspect or witness comes down to the interview room at the station to give an official statement.  Their home, car, and stuff are searched.  Detectives look for inconsistencies in their statements.  They compare statements of various witnesses to paint a picture of the crime, and if those don't jibe with each other, further investigation is done to reveal who is telling the truth.  It's all very detailed, acutely methodical, intensely  thorough.  And then Detective McGarret says, "Book 'em Danno," and the case is wrapped in pretty paper with a frilly bow on top and the investigators slap each other's backs for a job well done.
Hawaii Five-O: "book 'em Danno"
[Note: names have been changed]
Ummm.  The reality is . . . not.   I know personally that it isn't nicely cut and dried.  Because 20 years ago I found my dear neighbor, Lee, deceased in his garage.  And the ensuing investigation into his demise was so vastly different from the fiction above, that I actually found myself thinking stuff like, "aren't they curious how the window got broken, because hello, deceased person in the garage," "do they wonder how today's newspaper got into the house, because hello, deceased person in the garage," and "why haven't they pressed me about why I was snooping in Lee's house, because hello . . . "
Lee had had a drinking problem that resulted in hard falls.  Late afternoon was when he drank to excess.  A couple of times he backed his car out of the driveway, plowed into my mailbox, then drove off, never knowing.  I called his daughter Linda who lived 20 miles away to tell her he was driving drunk, could she take away his keys or something?   She said she would deal with it but if I saw him pull out in the afternoon I should report him immediately as a drunk driver.  Sad.  Whatever Linda said to him worked.  He went out every morning but stayed home after that.

And then that February bitter cold weather set in.  On a Tuesday night I noticed that Lee had left a light on in the front study.  That never happened.   The house was always dark after 8 because he turned in early.  On Thursday morning we woke up to 6" of snow.  I noticed there were no tire tracks leading out from Lee's garage.  Snow had never stopped him before.   The bedroom light was still on.  I phoned Linda to ask if Lee had gone out of town.  A pregnant pause, then: no he had not, and would I please go over to check on him.

At Lee's I knocked, rang the bell, tried the door, circuited the house looking in the windows, called through the windows, banged on the windows.  Nothing.  I reported back to Linda and her thought was the same as mine: Lee has fallen and can't get up.  Would I please break one of the little square panes by the front door and find him.  Done.  My son and I looked through the house, no Lee.  It was getting a little creepy but I knew we must make a second pass.  This time we searched under the beds, in the showers, the closets, the yard.  All that was left was the garage.  I held my breath and opened the door.  And there was Lee, sadly silhouetted in the gloomy winter half-light, lying frozen on the floor.  He appeared to be deceased, but no way was I going to go out there to check.  What if a perp had knocked him on the head and was waiting for another victim?  (I've read too much Agatha Christie).

I called 911.  The paramedics did their duty and headed into the garage.  What I heard one say as they approached Lee was, "Look out for a weapon, Mike!"  As soon as they confirmed Lee was deceased, I broke the shocking news to Linda.  The paramedics called the sheriff which set an investigation in motion.
Deputy Somebody arrived, saw the suspicious broken window and concluded this was a crime scene.  While he waited for a detective, he never asked me for my story of how I found Lee.  Guess it wasn't his job.  But the detective didn't do much more.  Looking back, it was a while before he was told that I had found Lee.  From the get-go he assumed the broken window meant this was a crime scene.  When I heard him discussing a perp breaking the window, I spoke up to say it was me who did that.  He were surprised.  Sheesh, if he had just asked me to tell my story as Barnaby or Ironside would have done, it would have saved brain strain.  Inspector Clouseau???


Then there was the tale of the mysterious newspaper.  The coroner had arrived and determined Lee had been dead possibly several days.  The investigator must have been wracking his brain to figure out how Thursday's newspaper ended up inside Lee's house.  It was me again.  Before entering the house to look for him I grabbed that day's paper from the tube outside and set it in the front room.  So that Lee could read it while recovering from the fall I was sure had occurred.

The questions below went unasked:
When I had last seen Lee
Why I was inside the house
How did I get inside
What did I know about the broken window
Did I know anything about Thursday's paper being inside
Did I see anything odd going on around Lee's house

When someone dies at an unknown time in non-crime situations, the coroner told me they assign the date of death as the day they were found.  The coroner determined that Lee's death was accidental, caused because Lee banged his head very hard on some woodworking equipment in the garage, which cause him to fall and strike his head on the garage floor.  I felt terrible about this, knowing how cold it had been.  If he was conscious he suffered miserably.

Because the death was ruled accidental, the coroner didn't go any further determining the exact time of Lee's accident and the investigator no longer needed to string clues together.  Except that he found Lee's previous day's (Wednesday) paper shoved into the depths of the paper tube, showing he was not able to bring in Wednesday's paper.  From all these clues it wasn't hard for me to figure out that Lee's fall occurred on Tuesday, sometime between 7 a.m. and 4 p.m., but almost certainly early Tuesday morning  Clues:
  • The study light had not been burning Monday night but was burning Tuesday night, so fall happened after Monday night
  • Wednesday's newspaper was never brought in, so accident happened before Wednesday
  • Lee had brought in Tuesday's newspaper, likely early in the morning as was was his habit, so accident happened after that
  • Lee might have gone out Tuesday morning as he did every day (either golf or a friend gathering), but no one saw him do so; accident could have happened early Tuesday morning before his normal leaving time or after his return, but again, there was no witness who could attest to Lee's actions that morning, so no helpful clue here
  • Lee did not put out his trash can out like he always did about 4 p.m. Tuesday, so accident happened before 4:00
  • I had observed the study light on since Tuesday night, so fall had already happened; Lee would have not left that light on all day Tuesday unless he was powerless to turn it off
  • Tuesday's newspaper was found in Lee's study by where the light was burning; therefore I believe his fall happened early Tuesday morning, when that light was still needed for him to read his newspaper 
  • NOTE: I don't remember whether there was any evidence of Lee's breakfast in the kitchen, so he may or may not have eaten yet that morning
Here's my scenario: Lee had gone out for the paper early Tuesday morning, then read the newspaper by the light in his study.  He left the light on and went to the garage, possibly tripped on something, bumped his head hard, then fell and hit his head; was completely immobilized.  Died.

In defense of our local investigators here, I must say that they do their jobs well, because I've seen them in action at other times solving cases.  And in poor Lee's case if it had turned out to be a crime, I would like to think the investigators eventually would have caught up with the facts.

Friday, November 28, 2014

My Cousin Laurie

For over 40 years I have been researching my family lines, and have built up a teeming data base of personal information, vital records, newspaper articles, photographs and so on, of people connected to us.  But I sort of neglected the line of my great-grandmother's brother, M.J. Doyle.  Some distant relatives of mine told me he had descendants, but no one seemed to have actually met them or knew anything about them.  Typically I would dive right in to solve a mystery like that, but this one fell by the wayside.

Last winter I wrote a series of 3 blog posts (here, here, and here) on the Irish famine and its aftermath, including the story of one of my families--the Doyles who immigrated to Massachusetts in 1880.  There were 11 Doyles all together.  The eldest child, Mary, remained in Ireland, and 2 of the older daughters, Bridget and Nell, had come earlier to work in the Holyoke cotton and paper mills to earn ship passage for the others.  The parents and the youngest 6 of the children landed in New York on May 10, 1880.

In the spring of 2014, a woman in a small Massachusetts town was searching for her extended family.  She had lived her entire life in the same town, and had known of maybe a couple of cousins growing up, but otherwise was in the dark about any further extended family.  She knew her grandfather's large family had settled in the US over 100 years ago, and wondered how they could have so few descendants.  There must be family out there, but her searches never turned up even a scrap of information.

One day last June she sat down at her computer to look again, and this time narrowed the search by typing in only the title of her grandfather's successful business.  Among the results was the third of my blog posts mentioned above, and she began to read.  She came to this photo which she had never seen before:


And then she read the caption I had written: My great-great grandparents Tom Doyle and Mary Murphy, along with Mary's sister Catherine Murphy O'Connor (on the right); Tom is holding a shillelagh, an Irishman's walking stick.

She recognized the names Thomas Doyle and Mary Murphy as the names of her great-grandparents.  Her heart beating faster, she continued to read:

"Of the 9 Doyle children, Michael was the most successful; he established a printing business called M.J. Doyle Printing Co.  Over the decades he employed his brothers, his children, nieces, nephews, grand-nieces, grand-nephews, cousins, and whoever else needed work."

Her grandfather, Michael!  M.J. Doyle.  Michael's printing company.  Her life would never be the same.

After weepily calling all her friends proclaiming "I've found my family!!!,"  Laurie got in touch with me.  And since then we have talked and emailed countless times.  We are second cousins once removed.  There are uncanny similarities in our lives. We have worked on solving the mystery of what happened to the printing company, and how it has affected future generations.  We're on the hunt for a few "lost" cousins.

One of the first questions I asked Laurie after hearing the story of her quest, was, "You mean, you don't know the Mulvaneys or the Griffins?"   No.  "You don't know the Sullivans?"  No.  "How about the Nelligans?"   No.  She is surrounded by dozens of cousins and had never heard of a single one.  She has since met and spoken on the phone with a good bunch of relatives.  They have been nearby her whole life, practically in her backyard.

Meeting a descendant of M.J. Doyle has been a boon to me.  It has given me a chance to say what needs to be said about M.J.: whatever his struggles or mistakes, he kept the entire Doyle family afloat during hard times by involving them in his business.  He could have hired experts in the printing field, but he hired family.  He hired my great-grandfather Matthew Ashe, when he was out of work or too ill to work elsewhere.  He hired my grandfather James Ashe during periods of unemployment.  M.J. hired my Mom and her brother for summer work. He hired his siblings, his nieces, nephews, cousins, and so on.  Thanks many times over to M.J. Doyle for providing for his huge extended family.  His descendants can be proud to be connected to such a man, while the rest of us are deeply grateful to him for his care and concern.



Thursday, November 27, 2014

An Invitation


Last Saturday the Deseret News (newspaper published in Salt Lake) carried an article entitled, "Be Thankful--There's a Theology of Gratitude."

One of the personal experiences the article discussed was of a Christian author named  Sara Hagerty, who suffered through a series of trials--loss of loved ones, troubled marriage, infertility.

Because of her Christian faith she noted the gratitude she felt in the midst of hardship.  She said,

"I can't put a timeline on it, but somewhere in the middle there, when I started to realize that God was inviting me into a deeper encounter with him, even though my circumstances weren't changing, there was a gratitude that wouldn't be shaken by my circumstance," Hagerty said this week from her home in Kansas City, Missouri.  "I've found God here and nothing can shake my gratitude for what he's given me, in himself."  [italics mine]

Trials and tribulations are a normal, expected part of life--I understand that very well.  I also understand how refining those experiences are, and would not trade for the world the growth that comes through difficulty.  But I had never considered the purpose of those types of human experiences in the profound way Sara expressed it: "God was inviting me into a deeper encounter with him."

An invitation.  From God.  Thinking of trials as God's way of getting to know him deeply makes me realize I have some missed opportunities in my past.   To be invited by God is a privilege and a blessing.




Wednesday, November 26, 2014

The Chinese Graveyard

Ruiz Cemetery (aka Chinese Graveyard)

We teenagers growing up in a small community sometimes had to invent something to do. In the Santa Clarita Valley in the 60s and early 70s, there were no malls, (hardly any stores period), few restaurants, no miniature golf, roller rink or other recreational activities. There was the Plaza Theatre that we went to once in a  while.  At our small high school clubs and sports were limited, and if you were female, which I was (and still am), you were barred from sports anyway, except for a girls' club that met after school.  But if you were me and were terrible at sports, the choice of activities narrowed further.

Sometimes my friends and I would just walk around for something to do.  When we were old enough to drive and lucky enough to have a turn with the car, we would drive around for something to do. We explored Hart Ranch and remote wilderness roads.  I rode my friends' horses after school, or went to farm auctions with a particular friend.

The more daring among us bragged about going to Colored Sands Cave on weekend nights. I didn't know what they did once they got there, but we can be sure it wasn't looking at the stars.  Another place teens gushed about was the Chinese Graveyard.  Everyone talked about how scary it was and how gutsy you had to be to go there.  Even the upright Mormon kids talked about the mysteriously creepy haunted ghostly Chinese Graveyard.

So, when I worked the late shift at newly opened Magic Mountain, sometimes that's where a few of us would go. It was always after midnight when we got off work.  Out to San Francisquito Canyon we would drive. Back in the day this was almost the middle of nowhere. There were a few ranches on the narrow curvy road.  No lights. The graveyard perched on a hill on the west side of the river but we parked on the east side, because the cemetery was on private property, so we couldn't go cruising up the long rutted driveway in the middle of the night.

Once parked, we hiked across the broad shallow river bed, which was usually dry. We counted on there being moonlight enough to see.  I'm surprised we never stepped on any rattlesnakes. The graveyard was easy to spot even in the dark because the only trees in the vicinity grew among the headstones. We headed straight for the looming spectral pine and pepper trees.

I should comment on the name of this place. Why it was called the Chinese Graveyard, I have no idea.  There are no Chinese buried there. We heard that the graves were those of flood victims from the 1928 dam break upstream. The truth is, there are some victims buried here, and most of the graves are related to the Mexican Ruiz family.  6 of the Ruizs were wiped out that terrible day of the flood.  I only recently found out the place is rightfully called the Ruiz Cemetery.

Ruiz family, flood victims who died March 13, 1928

Even though the graveyard is on private property, we had no qualms about sneaking up there under cover of darkness.  I never participated in shenanigans such as hiding behind a tree to spook someone.  Or draping white sheets in the trees to frighten newbies.  I never saw a ghost up there or felt the frosty chill that kids believed signified the ghostly presence of a mournful flood victim.  It was a place of fascination and reverence to me, because every gravestone represented a life.  And every life has a story that intertwines with the history and landscape of a place.   Sometimes the stories are upbeat and lengthy. And at times they end prematurely, as with the Ruiz family which has lain here together for most of 90 years. Their holy terror probably lasted only a few moments as they heard the thunderous crashing and felt the rumble of the approaching water. It enveloped them and their terror was swiftly over.

The cemetery is now abutted by development. It is still on private property though. Even though my nocturnal visits there were illicit, I am glad to have spent some meaningful moments there so many years ago.

William S. Hart (kneeling in center) and his cowboy friends place a memorial marker in Ruiz Cemetery to the 1928 flood victims

closeup of the marker
photo by Leon Worden

NOTE: read here for more about William S. Hart