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pre-work spam
Jul. 1st, 2007 01:01 pmPharmaceutical propaganda through the aeons.
Isn't "injectable whole opium" actually just heroin?? Jesus.
Isn't "injectable whole opium" actually just heroin?? Jesus.
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topaz7 linked to this story about the death of one of the last veterans of the Great War, and it reminded me of this song. I linked it in her comments, so I thought I'd post it here.Cheryl Wheeler - 75 Septembers
Cheryl wrote it for her dad for his 75th birthday, but it applies to any older person looking back on life. It's always reminded me of my stepdad:
Mr. Clemett lived before the airplane and after the internet. Amazing, long life.
Here is a link to an NPR interview with US WWI vets. The World War I Living History Project is a lovely idea. Their site has interviews and videos with some of the last living US Vets (The first random picture I clicked on happened to be someone from Rhode Island). I hope other countries have sites like this, too. There aren't many of these guys left, and unlike my fourth grade history lessons taught me, WWI began in 1914, not 1917 (no, really. For years I though the war began in 1917 and ended in 1918).
I actually went looking similar projects in other countries, but got completely off-track because there's nothing like a geek with ADD for getting lost in a subject. There's sites featuring writers and propaganda posters (I want to get copies of some of these and frame them) and ones that give the German perspective (I'll have to wait for
mr_t00by to help me read this one, but I can get a little of it).I got completely lost in this site featuring music of the era.
And erm. Yeah. I was only going to post the Cheryl Wheeler song. Now I'm gonna go do laundry.
Last year I sat in my car in the parking lot of the Block Island Ferry. I was early for the boat (which was a rarity), so I had time to listen to the NPR story that had been on since before I arrived. The story was Haunting the Quabbin, about the history of the Quabbin Reservoir that is now Boston's water supply. But once, there were four towns there. TPTB at the time thought it would be for the common good to flood the towns in order to bring abundant fresh drinking water to Boston. I think if you ask a lot of Bostonians, they'd have no idea where their water comes from. Bostonians on my flist, do you know?
Anyway, I sat in my car, and by the end of the story I was pretty much weeping. Not so much because these people lost their homes, although that was tragic; but moreso because the whole thing happened in the 1930s and there aren't many left who remember. It's history dying, and that's really sad. This story also makes me think about the Gaza Strip, and the people who had to leave their homes there. Displaced people everywhere, no matter what the politics may be.
I don't know why I thought of it tonight, but when I re-listened, the reaction was the same. We remember things like wars and genocides, and so we should, of course, but smaller things such as having to leave the homes they always knew, sometimes for generations, will be forgotten in just one or two of the next generations. I think that's as much of a tragedy.
Go read this, if you have time. It's a sad, lovely story that needs to be preserved. And you guys in Boston? When you run your water, raise a glass in honour and memory of the families who gave up everything so you could have it.
This song is a modern tribute, written about the last Firemens' Ball on the last day of the towns' existence. I'm glad someone's rememebering it. I'd love to go to the site someday.
Mark Erelli - The Farewell Ball
Lyrics are here.
Anyway, I sat in my car, and by the end of the story I was pretty much weeping. Not so much because these people lost their homes, although that was tragic; but moreso because the whole thing happened in the 1930s and there aren't many left who remember. It's history dying, and that's really sad. This story also makes me think about the Gaza Strip, and the people who had to leave their homes there. Displaced people everywhere, no matter what the politics may be.
I don't know why I thought of it tonight, but when I re-listened, the reaction was the same. We remember things like wars and genocides, and so we should, of course, but smaller things such as having to leave the homes they always knew, sometimes for generations, will be forgotten in just one or two of the next generations. I think that's as much of a tragedy.
Go read this, if you have time. It's a sad, lovely story that needs to be preserved. And you guys in Boston? When you run your water, raise a glass in honour and memory of the families who gave up everything so you could have it.
This song is a modern tribute, written about the last Firemens' Ball on the last day of the towns' existence. I'm glad someone's rememebering it. I'd love to go to the site someday.
Mark Erelli - The Farewell Ball
Lyrics are here.
