Unless you’ve been busier than I‘ve been, you’ll have realized that half of January 2025 is already gone. The end of 2024 was crazy busy, and after the dust of the Christmas holidays settled, life was about getting caught up with all of those little things that had been neglected for a couple of months.
I’ve thought about how I want to go forward with this blog in the coming year; I enjoy having this platform to dive into topics I might not otherwise encounter in my day-to-day life, but life in the real world has many facets that keep me busy, too. I’ve decided to post roughly once per fortnight, giving me time to live, write/edit/publish, and research topics of interest. I’ve always tried to write quality above quantity, and I want to share things that interest me, grab my imagination, or give me a good laugh. If you feel the same, sit back and enjoy the ride!
Since this is mid-January, let’s take a look at some of the highlights of history on this day, the 15th of January:
1541: A commission to settle New France (Canada) was granted by King Francis I of France.
1559: Queen Elizabeth I was crowned Queen of England in Westminster Abbey, London.
1759: The British Museum opened to the public for the first time.
1777: In the American Revolutionary War, New Connecticut (Vermont) declares its independence.
1782 – The U.S. Congress was petitioned to establish a national mint and decimal coinage.
1870 – For the first time, a political cartoon symbolizes the Democratic Party with a donkey (“A Live Jackass Kicking a Dead Lion” by Thomas Nast for Harper’s Weekly).
1889 – The Pemberton Medicine Company (later to become known as the Coca-Cola Company) is incorporated in Atlanta.
1908 – The Alpha Kappa Alpha sorority becomes the first Greek-letter organization founded and established by African American college women.
1919 – Great Molasses Flood (a wave of molasses ejected from an exploding storage tank) sweeps through Boston, Massachusetts.
1943 – The Pentagon is dedicated in Arlington County, Virginia.
2001 – Wikipedia, a free Wiki content encyclopedia, is launched (Wikipedia Day).
2009 – US Airways Flight 1549 ditches safely in the Hudson River after the plane collides with birds less than two minutes after take-off. This became known as “The Miracle on the Hudson” as all 155 people on board were rescued. This story was adapted for the “Sully” film in 2016.
2015 – The Swiss National Bank abandons the cap on the Swiss franc’s value relative to the euro, causing turmoil in international financial markets.
2022 – The Hunga Tonga-Hunga Haʻapai volcano erupts, cutting off communications with Tonga and causing a tsunami across the Pacific. It was the largest volcanic eruption since the 1991 eruption of Mt. Pinatubo (Philippines).
Which of these events do you find most interesting? Please comment below and let us know! For me personally, it’s the opening of the British Museum. What was it like back in 1759, and how has it evolved into the massive collection it is today? I’ve been there a few times, but I have yet to see it all!
This is AI’s interpretation of “ancient scroll rolled up”. No idea where the man came into that result, but his longsuffering expression is apt!
This week’s adventurous tale is a proverbial rabbit hole; diving into it takes us past the problem of Paris’ 18th century dilemma of dealing with the “explosive” issue of overfilled cemeteries, which forced King Louis XVI to take action: Bury them deeper. Following this problem and its solution into the ground, so to speak, leads us into the massive (1.5 km long) ossuary (bone depository) of Paris. Once you reach the ossuary, which contains the artfully arranged skulls and bones of some six million residents (around three times more than the actual population of central Paris, which as of 2023 was 2.1 million…), you aren’t officially allowed to go any further – because above your head is the bustling city of street cafés, boutiques, and historical buildings. And when someone buys a house up there, they are actually also buying the land on which it stands – which includes their section of the underground maze of mining tunnels and caverns; venturing beyond the official section makes you an intruder on private property or breaking and entering an actual shop – but more on that in a moment. The message above the entrance to the ossuary reads, Arrête! C’est ici l’empire de la Mort. (“Halt! This is the Empire of Death.”). That warning doesn’t stop it from being one of Paris’ most popular tourist attractions.
The tunnels, now known as The Catacombs, were originally dug far outside of the small 13th-century city when Lutetian limestone was mined as a local building material (any town or city with a distinctive architecture owes its appearance to whatever was available locally when it was founded – whether wood, stone, thatch or brick). Though no one knows with certainty, as the mining resources were eventually exhausted and the mines abandoned, an estimated 350 kilometres of tunnels undermined the city, which covers some 32 square kilometres beneath Paris… a city beneath a city, as it were.
And yes, buildings have occasionally been swallowed; in 1774, about 30 metres of a street disappeared into a cavern below. This led to the formation of the Générale des Carrières (IGC), an office created in 1777 by King Louis XVI to oversee the mapping and maintenance of the catacombs. During the French Revolution, many things got lost and fell out of collective memory, including the underground map.
Paris Catacombs Map – Inspection Générale des Carrières, 1857, Pulbic Domain
Throughout the years, the tunnels have been put to various purposes, aside from the macabre: Mushrooms were cultivated there; beer was brewed, wine aged, and Chartreuse liquors were distilled down there by monks in the 17th century. The city beneath the city had no prime real estate overhead for businesses, and many took advantage of the free space, making access for their customers through the various access points throughout Paris. It also served the French Resistance during world war 2, even though the Nazis also used a section of the tunnels. Now, let’s go back up out of the rabbit hole for a brief moment.
Remember that I wrote officially allowed? Well, a secret maze of tunnels is too much to resist for the adventurous, called cataphiles. But there is a secret society at large down there, too.
When you think of a secret society, you might think of the Luminati or something else sinister; but the Les Ux would be more akin to Robin Hood. The story goes that in 1981, a group of kids were talking after school, and one of them mentioned that he could break into any building in Paris; in fact, his next target was the Pantheon. They didn’t believe him, and so they all went down together – and found out just how easy it was to go wherever they wanted. The Pantheon, which was the tallest structure in Paris until the Eifel Tower was constructed, vacillated between being a church and a secular building several times over its history, depending on the political regime, and it finally became a secular structure in 1885 under the Third Republic. It now is a mausoleum, with famous residents like Marie Curie, Victor Hugo, Alexandre Dumas and Voltaire; but it is also a museum, an art exhibition hall, hosts school events and lectures, and is linked to a section of the catacombs – which is where the group of school friends began their adventures.
During one of their nocturnal outings, the group stumbled upon a narrow passage full of electrical cables; following those, they found themselves in the basement of the Ministry of Communications. No security stopped them and they were able to explore at their leisure. In a drawer, they found the motherlode: A map of the entire catacomb structure. That changed the course of their lives, and they eventually became known as the Les Ux, short for “urban experiment”. These individuals, unknown to anyone but themselves, specialize in safeguarding Paris cultural goods – stepping in when the government can either not afford to or doesn’t care enough to preserve something of cultural or historical value. They seem to think that, unless it’s a big-ticket attraction like the Mona Lisa, things get neglected. For instance, the mission statement of one branch of Les Ux is to reclaim and transform disused city spaces for the creation of zones of expression for free and independent art.
The group, now a full-fledged underground movement, is divided up into teams with seemingly nonsensical names: The Mouse House (an all-female team of infiltrators), La Mexicaine De Perforation (in charge of clandestine artistic events and underground shows), and the Untergunther (specializing in restorations); they also have teams that specialize in things like running internal messaging systems and coded radio networks, a database team, and a team of photographers.
Some of their exploits include restoring a forgotten metro station, a 12th-century crypt, an old French bunker, and a World War 2 air raid shelter. One member, likely from the Mouse House, wrote a detailed report about a particular museum’s security, telling them how many ways she could have broken in and stolen had she been so inclined. She then infiltrated the museum and left the report on the desk of the museum’s head of security. He went straight to the police to press charges. They refused to pursue the matter.
They built an entire cinema complex in the catacombs, complete with a bar and restaurant, where they are thought to have held film festivals for several months or even years before being discovered by the police in a random training exercise. When the police returned to remove the cinema, everything was gone except a note which read, “Don’t try to find us.”
Les Ux has held many events within the Pantheon over the years, including parties and art exhibitions – all vanishing, and leaving the place cleaner when they left, before the museum opened the next day. One night, a team member (from Untergunther) decided to take a closer look at the broken Wagner clock, which hangs over a prominent entrance within the building. Their most public restoration (that we know of so far) was, of course, an embarrassment to the management of the Pantheon: One of the members, Jean-Baptiste Viot, was a professional clockmaker; the team snuck in for nearly a year to restore the clock. They built a secret workshop (complete with armchairs, bookcase, and bar, which they nicknamed the Unter and Gunther Winter Kneipe – German for winter boozer!) high up in the dome of the pantheon, and carried out the clock work by night. Once it was done, they knew that the clock would need to be wound regularly to continue working – so they broke protocol and met with the museum director to tell him the good news. He promptly pressed charges… but there are no laws in France about repairing an expensive clock at their own expense, and the case was dismissed with the comment, “This was stupid!” The museum director hired someone to break the clock, presumably to avoid the hassle of winding it up regularly, and also out of spite for losing his case and his face; the person refused to damage the clock, simply deactivating the mechanism. Les Ux snuck back in to let the clock chime over the days around Christmas, then went back in and removed a component to prevent any further damage the next time spite struck. I’ve read that since that time, the clockmaker of Untergunther has actually been hired by the Pantheon to maintain the clocks.
We only know of a fraction of their activities, of course, because they don’t publicise their accomplishments or events. Below are a few links if you’d like to read more on this fascinating topic! I hope you enjoyed this little exploration as much as I did!
Here are a few links to articles, if you’re interested in learning more:
Do you ever have those moments where you catch yourself thinking about the simplest of things in life? Things that are common to you, yet you’ve never stopped to think about why you call something by a certain term and where those words or phrases come from? I do, with alarming frequency… I guess it’s the product of a curious mind.
I have long hair; so long that, if it’s not in a braid or some other up-do, I’d be sitting on it with ease. I braid it every day and every night – otherwise, it tangles. And thus, while brushing my hair out this morning, the word tangle tangled in my tangled mind. As someone once said, my hair isn’t messy; it’s just erupting with awesomeness.
As a verb, meaning “to knit together confusedly, encumber, or enmesh”, it came into English in the mid-14th century via Old Norse þongull, meaning seaweed, from the Proto-Germanic thangul. Other Germanic languages have related words: In both Dutch and German, we find Tang (seaweed), and in Frisian we find Tung [Frisia is a cultural region that lies over the border between the Netherlands and Germany.] Looking at the image below, it’s easy to imagine a ship’s tackle becoming entangled in the tang…
Image Credit: The Norwegian Blue Forests Network
As with any useful word, it began to collect variations: The transitive sense of entrapping someone or bringing someone under one’s influence; the sense of fighting with someone; Tanglefoot was a western slang meaning strong whiskey, and tanglesome (1823), meaning complicated.
So I hope I’ve untangled the origins of this tanglesome word! Have a great, untangled week!
The past two weeks have been crazy! Our church recently moved into our new building, so we had a two-day open-house celebration, and on Sunday the mayor spoke, as well as regional church leaders from the Catholic church, the Protestant (State) church, and a few regional leaders from our church’s denomination. We were directly or inadvertently involved most of the time. As we are both active in our church, we’re often there; with the Advent season, more so than usual. Below is a photo of our new church, with the playground in progress. It is already a huge attraction in the town!
Also, the work on our balcony finally began in the last week of November! If you don’t know already, we discovered extensive water damage back in April (actually, it’s been ongoing for 4 years, but every time we’d have a repairman, he’d fix one thing and say, “that was the problem – all done.” Fix. Fix. Fix.) In April, we started the ball rolling with extensive repairs – but it got lost in the works as our management company had personnel changes; someone took our file home for work, then either went on vacation or was let go (unsure which came first). The summer flew by, and finally, in September, all the ducks were in a row – insurance, neighbours’ consents, etc.
Our balcony was ripped up, the privacy glass walls removed, scaffolding set up, and repairs began – but last week, they discovered a problem that brought work to a stop: The wood underneath our balcony window was basically compost. Now, the specialist for window repair has been brought in; an offer will be made, but all tradesmen go on holiday from the 20th of December, which means things cannot be ordered/received/scheduled… until late January 2025. Sigh. It means we cannot even go onto our upper balcony until possibly March… Scaffolding will be removed and re-installed when it’s needed again.
With all of that going on, and workers coming and going, I haven’t had any time to even think about creative writing apart from the novel I hope to wrap up (first draft) before Christmas, so that, over the holidays, my beta readers can read and give feedback.
In all of that, my sewing machine died (at least I could do crafts of some kind between workers, phone calls and appointments); I’ve been wanting to replace it ever since, but I haven’t even had time to go three streets over to the shop! After our church’s celebration, the organizer had a box full of out-of-date flyers for the event; she was going to throw them away when her son suggested giving them to me (I have a bit of a reputation; so far, I’ve also inherited four craft rooms…). When I’ve had time in-betweens, and couldn’t focus on writing because of noise (drilling, hammering, etc.), I’ve been making notebooks from the flyers, covered with scrap paper. I took a batch on Sunday; most were handed out at the welcome station! More, ready to go!
This morning, for the first time in ages, I’ve been able to think about blog topics once more! So keep an eye on this space for another blog this week. Thank you for your patience, and keep learning, keep being curious, and if you’re a writer, keep writing!
My husband and I were having lunch recently, and a package of Swedish crackers was on the table; I pointed to the brand name, Pågen. In English, our pronunciation of these vowels would lead us to say pagan /pæg-in/, whereas the Swedish would rather be more like /po-gen/. I just mentioned that English might have sounded similar to that before the Great Vowel Shift, which he’d never heard of (being Swiss, it’s not likely he would be familiar with this aspect of English etymology), so I promised to write a blog about it; here we go!
The term Great Vowel Shift was coined by the Danish linguist, Otto Jespersen (1860-1943), who specialised in the English language. Though the GVS is considered a single event (because of the changes being viewed as part of a chain reaction, with each vowel sound changing in a predictable way), the actual transition of English pronunciation was gradual, taking place over about 200 years, from ~1400 to ~1600. The shift began in Middle English, which was spoken from 1066 until the late 15th century – that form familiar to Geoffrey Chaucer (though his pronunciation would be unintelligible to us, his words still survive through his famous Canterbury Tales) – into Early Modern English (from the beginning of the Tudor period through to the Stuart Restoration period); Shakespeare would have been familiar with it. From there, English transitioned into Modern English in the mid-to-late 17th Century.
The main changes were that, from Middle to Early Modern English, the long vowels shortened; weef became wife, moos* became mice, beet became bite, and so on. (*The word moose entered English through Native American languages in 1610). I will also mention that in Scottish, a lot of the older vowel pronunciations still exist; house is still huus, full is homophonous with fool, etc.
Here’s a look at just how the English vowels shifted:
Source: SlideShare
If you’ve been paying any sort of attention to English, you’ll know that our spelling is a bit chaotic; the language is full of homonyms, which are divided into either homophones (words that sound the same but have different spellings, e.g. beet and beat; bear and bare; to, too and two), or homographs (two words with differing meanings, same spellings, but not necessarily the same pronunciation: e.g. bank [of river; finance] or agape [with mouth open; love], or entrance [a way inside; to delight]) or tear [ripping; crying]. These -graphs and -phones came into English from regional dialects that were transported as migration and cultural mixing took place, and the GVS added its two pennies to the mix. Just think of the variety we have in the sounds /ea/ (bread, beat, bear, break); /oo/ (look, spool, blood); or /gh/ (through, cough, sight).
Certain factors contributed to the speed of language shift: The Black Death (1346-1353) wiped out up to 50% of Europe’s population. Stop a minute and let that sink in. What if the population of your town were reduced by half? And the next town, and the next. That single event changed the course of history on many levels; surfs could finally demand better wages wherever they ended up settling; if you lived in a town that no longer had the skills of a baker, blacksmith, or any other trade you’d depended on, you’d move to where those services existed – and jobs existed – and that meant places that had been hit the hardest by the plague and thus where everyone else was migrating, such as London. As mass movement followed the epidemic, people brought their dialects and their spellings with them. It began to converge into a new, distinct way of speaking, thinking and spelling. The geopolitical climate of the time also influenced English; England and France have been annoying each other for over a thousand years; whenever England was enamoured by all things French, they tried to emulate their pronunciations. That influence came and went; in one such moment, the pilgrims set sail for America (1620), taking a time capsule of the language with them, while England’s English continued to be influenced by French up until the French Revolution, when it quickly fell out of favour in England, though the changes had already taken place (one example is the American /k/ in schedule, closer to the original Latin, while the English say /sch/ without the /k/, which is closer to the French cedule). This factor of influence also affected differences of speech between the lower class and upper class at that time; the upper class wanted to sound more posh, more fashionable, and above all, not like the lower class.
A major contributing factor to our chaotic spelling is that ca. 1440, the Gutenberg printing technique was introduced, and by the 1470s, William Caxton had imported the invention to England; we have him to thank for Chaucer’s Canterbury Tales being known today, as that was the first book he printed in England. We also have him to thank for the influence of Chancery English (the English used by the secretariat of King Henry VI) in the standardization of the language, as he used it as his own guidelines in printing. The vowels had already begun to shift by that time; enter the written word, a rise in literacy, and you have the jumbled effects of “mid-shift” on English spelling – people began to adapt their pronunciation to the written word, so whichever form the printer used is the one that began to prevail, even though some sounds were still in transition. Like nailing down jelly. You could say that many of our odd spellings are simply a snapshot in time.
It is also important to point out that the GVS didn’t have the same influence everywhere: The main changes occurred around London, but the farther away you move from that epicentre, the less the effects on the local dialects, which still holds true today – though gradual merging has allowed people from, say, Cornwall, to understand people from Yorkshire – which wouldn’t have been the case centuries ago. Even though they can understand each other, their dialects are still distinct. I’ve already mentioned that Scots English (as opposed to Gaelic) still retains many of the longer vowels long since lost in standardized English; being so far from London, they simply ignored them. English may be taught in their schools, but Scots dialects prevail in the home and hearth. Regional dialects in English exist the world over, and though spelling and pronunciation may differ from region to region, and the language continues to be a living, breathing, growing and changing being, it’s still a language that enables the modern world to communicate, whether English is their mother tongue or not.
Dr Samuel Johnson (1709-1784) was an English poet, playwright, essayist, moralist, literary critic, sermonist, biographer, editor, and lexicographer, and his writings have lasted the test of time. He has been called “the most distinguished man of letters in English history” (The Oxford Dictionary of National Biography). His most notable work is “A Dictionary of the English Language” (1755), though he was a prolific writer in every expression of the craft.
Based on biographies by those who knew him, such as his friend, James Boswell, his mannerisms and behaviours were so well documented that a posthumous diagnosis of Tourette’s Syndrome can be attributed to him. The most famous portrait of Johnson is the one above, painted by Joshua Reynolds, with whom he founded The Literary Club in 1764. The club would meet regularly, and included members from the literary and historical disciplines; membership was by unanimous election only; if a nominee was undesirable, a member could submit a black ball (white and black balls were likely deposited in an urn to keep the vote confidential). The term “to blackball someone” arose in 1770, and it means “to exclude from a club by adverse votes”. It may have originated at this club or simply have been a general practice employed in clubs and societies around this time.
So, without further ado, here are 10 quotes by Dr Johnson:
“I know not, Madam, that you have a right, upon moral principles, to make your readers suffer so much.”
“I never desire to converse with a man who has written more than he has read.”
“It is better to live rich than to die rich.”
“No man will be a sailor who has contrivance enough to get himself into a jail; for being in a ship is being in a jail, with the chance of being drowned. … A man in a jail has more room, better food and commonly better company.” (Boswell’s Life of Johnson)
“The chains of habit are too weak to be felt until they are too strong to be broken.”
“The use of travelling is to regulate imagination by reality, and instead of thinking how things may be, to see them as they are.”
“Great works are performed not by strength, but by perseverance.”
“In order that all men may be taught to speak truth, it is necessary that all likewise should learn to hear it.”
“When a man knows he is to be hanged in a fortnight, it concentrates his mind wonderfully.”
“The superiority of some men is merely local. They are great because their associates are little.”
With the increasing complexity of our world and a political climate of distrust and division being spread recently, I’d like to offer an antithesis by encouraging everyone to do good, to make a difference by responding in the opposite spirit. Below is a short quiz that might spark a few ideas of how you can make that difference:
WHEN WAS THE LAST TIME THAT YOU…
…told someone that you appreciate what they do in your community?
…sent a message of encouragement to someone?
…invited someone out for a drink or a meal?
…invited someone new to your home?
…sent a message or made a phone call to someone who’s sick?
…intentionally identified someone who needs encouragement, and then acted on that?
…did something fun with one or more community members (e.g., a neighbourhood party, a bike ride, a picnic, or a fun-raising event)?
…spent time with children in your community? (Sometimes young people need encouragement from older community members.)
…thanked someone for their contributions to your community?
…given a small financial gift (anonymously or known) to someone who really needs a sign that someone cares about them?
If you haven’t done any of the above for a while, plan to do something about it this coming week!
Back in January, I wrote about the phenomenon of the Hum, something that occurs around the world.
Another global phenomenon is that of “ghost lights,” also known as fata morgana, mirages (both inferior and superior), will-o’-the-wisps, fairy fires, or ignis fatuus (“foolish flame”).
I grew up in a climate zone with hot, dry summers and wide, flat highways that stretched to the horizon. On a hot summer day, you could see the cab of a semi-truck floating mid-air for some distance before you actually saw the truck finally touch the ground. Sometimes the highway would look flooded – this kind of water mirage is also a danger in desert regions. Death Valley is dangerous, not only because of the heat but also because of disorienting mirages.
Ghost Lights can have a variety of natural causes: methane gas combustion or other organic decay which can cause photon emissions (these lights often appear over swamp or boggy areas); light refraction in certain atmospheric conditions that cause the lights of cars on distant roads or firelights from campfires to “float” midair (like the semi-truck cab above); it may also be caused by the bioluminescence of various micro-organisms and insects.
For a fun dive into these phenomena, the Why Files has a video covering the topic (the actual content starts at 4:15); I enjoy his videos because the author in me likes the way he sets stories up as real – as if reporting facts – before he debunks them or offers probable explanations. While he knows that many people likely believe in the stories he eventually debunks, he goes about it in a respectful, tongue-in-cheek way.
All of us can relate to having some form of ruts in our lives: Favourite meals, restaurants, seats in places we visit often, clothes we prefer, products we buy, food brands or makeup brands (if you wear it); all, patterns of movement or place or things. Recently, I heard of an app that made me curious to try it out; when I did, it was an eye-opener about how many things I use that I’ve taken for granted that their claims are accurate – I know that’s naïve, but part of that naivety is that greatest of marketing tools, willful ignorance.
Case in point: Speaking to the women out there, you probably have favourite makeup products or brands that you’re used to. But what if you found out that half of their ingredients build up in your system, damaging your liver, your thyroid, and the environment? That’s exactly what I have learned lately, and it’s shaken me awake: the app I cannot recommend highly enough is called Yuka. If I had known years ago what I know now, perhaps I would still have a thyroid; tumours put an end to that several years ago – but I can prevent further damage to my body by being aware of what’s in a product and buying safe alternatives.
The app works like this: You scan a product’s barcode – anything from food items to makeup to body products such as shampoos and hand creams; the app then ranks the products on a set list of 100 points and tells you whether it’s excellent, good, poor or bad; it then lists the ingredients and gives you the option to read more about each one, ranking the ingredients (colour-coded) as hazardous, moderate risk, low risk, or risk-free. If the products rank as poor or bad, below them will be a list of alternative products, with their rankings and ingredients for further information. The recommendations are unbiased as they are not supported by any company. The app also keeps a record of products I’ve already scanned; if I’m at the store, and scan products I don’t buy because of their rating, I can then delete one or several items from the list to keep it streamlined to my products/foods.
There are things that this app is NOT: It is not a substitute for medical or nutritional advice; it is not the be-all and end-all for telling you what to buy. But what it IS: A good guide to weighing the benefits vs. the disadvantages of using one product over another. Some of my products may clock in as “poor” – but when I consider why that rating is given, I may decide to continue its use until something better becomes available in my area.
For me, I’ve found that one ingredient pops up in most makeup and hair products: Phenoxyethanol; it is listed as a potential endocrine disruptor, potential allergen, and irritant. In the EU its use in cosmetics is regulated – but not in the USA or in Canada. In itself it may be within regulatory limits in a product; but accumulatively (several products, from shower gel to lip balm to foundation) it exceeds the limit and becomes a health concern. Knowing this has helped me find new, healthier products. Even within a product range, the ingredients may vary; for example, one lip balm may be good, but another colour of the same brand differs to produce the colour or gloss and ends up being listed as bad. Honestly, I won’t buy a product now without knowing it’s healthy. It’s not that I can’t and won’t think for myself and let an app tell me what to do, but I can use it to weigh a decision.
This past week, I wanted to find a lip gloss to replace the one I’d been using which was marked as “hazardous”; but the store I was in didn’t have customer wi-fi, so I bought a small Vaseline, thinking, “This has been around for ages, so it must be simple and safe”. Wrong. When I got home, I scanned it: Petrolatum is the mineral oil used, which has a moderate risk with a big BUT: this oil may contain problematic residues, such as MOAHs (genotoxic carcinogens which promote cancers and damage DNA) and MOSHs (these accumulate in the body, particularly lymph nodes and the liver). These oils should be avoided, especially in products that may be ingested… such as lip balms (and these two residues were present in half of all tested lip balms!) So now, that little jar is in my craft room to be used as a lubricant for my tools.
We all need to take steps to protect ourselves; big companies are not putting customers first, but customers’ wallets. If we don’t shake ourselves awake and work against our own willful ignorance, we shouldn’t be surprised when health issues pop up; but who would associate lip balms and blush and hand creams or canned foods and pre-made packaged food with those bigger issues? We need to start looking into it for our own sakes.
The baroque town of Solothurn, though only an hour away from our home, was unfamiliar to us until my husband and I took a day trip this week. It has a beautiful historical centre and is known as the “city of elevens”: It was the 11th canton to join the Swiss Confederation; there are 11 towers in the fortification walls of the city; there are 11 churches and chapels, and 11 historical fountains throughout the city; the stairs leading up to the St. Ursus Cathedral have landings every 11 steps; the cathedral itself has 11 altars and 11 bells; the local brewery, producing an eponymous beer, is even called Oeufi – which is a Swiss dialectical word for eleven. 11:00 is the most “auspicious” time to set appointments in the town, and there is even a clock, hanging on the wall of a local bank, which is segmented into 11 hours; it has 11 cogs and 11 bells, which are chimed by a metalwork sculpture of a harlequin on the hours of 11:00, 12:00, 17:00 and 18:00. The bells chime to the tune of the city’s unofficial anthem, the Solothurner Lied.
Solothurn’s history dates back to the palaeolithic era, and its Roman era is dated to around AD 15-25; it was first mentioned in AD 219 as vico saloduro, and may have referred to a Celtic settlement, possibly meaning “Salo’s fort/stronghold”. In the Battle of Sempach, July 1386, the Habsburgs attacked Solothurn; it was a decisive Swiss victory, and even more importantly, it helped to solidify the loosely allied Swiss Confederation cantons into a more unified nation and is seen as a turning point in the growing strength of Switzerland as a nation. Today, it is largely bypassed by tourists due to its proximity to Bern, the Swiss capital, so it remains a hidden gem.
Another interesting clock is the clock tower, the “Zeitglockenturm”, a tower built in 1152 and first mentioned as a “clock tower” in 1406. If you look closely, you’ll see typical rain spouts coming off of the corners of the tower’s spire and roof, shaped like dragon’s heads. The 24-hour astronomical clock was built by Lorenz Liechti and Joachim Habrecht in 1545. The sun and moon hands both run counterclockwise; the moon makes one complete rotation every 27 days, while the sun makes one complete rotation every 365 days.
According to the Roter Turm website, there’s a humorous story connected to the upper, 12-hour clock: By 1753 the hour hand and the bells were no longer in sync; a commission contacted the watchmaker Niklaus Pfluger, reminding him of his gild’s oath, i.e. his responsibility to correct the clock. He suggested to the local government council that they add a minute hand; but minutes were not so important in the 18th century, apparently – they told him to leave it as it had always been. He took matters into his own hands (I guess it was easier to ask for forgiveness than permission…) and in 1756, he added a minute hand. He justified it as the “warning hand of God” – but he made it smaller, less noticeable than the hour hand, so on this clock, the small hand shows the minutes, not the hours.
Because the clock tower was built and added to over time, you’ll see four dates on the full image of the tower: 1411 and 2022 on the highest, 12-hour clock; and 1545 and 1883 on the central tableau; the latter dates usually refer to restorations.
The three figures in the central tableau above the clock are a knight, king, and skeleton (Death), which perform every hour: The knight holds a battleaxe in his right hand, and a sword in his left; every quarter-hour, he turns his head toward Death and strikes his breast, signifying his loyalty to the central figure, the king. On the right stands Death; in its right hand is a hourglass, which is turned on the hour, symbolizing the contradictions of life – good, bad, life, death. In the other hand is an arrow, showing that one could be struck down at any moment. On the hour, its head turns toward the knight.
On the throne between these two figures is the king: In his right hand is a sceptre, which he lifts on the hour. His jaw moves in rhythm with the hour hand, and his beard represents wisdom. However, notice that he’s wearing red and white fool’s garb: If the king does not rule with wisdom and the humour of a fool, his reign will become a tyranny. It tells us that life should have moments of both wisdom and a jester’s humour.
While Death announces the hours, the king swings his sceptre. At the same time, Death nods with each stroke and confirms the relentless passing of the hours. The king with his fool’s garb reminds us of the memento mori. When death or illness reigns, even the power of a wise king can do little (Solothurn was hit by the plague, e.g. in 1348). Though the Freudian era banished death from contact with the living in many Western cultures, death personified as a skeleton is still a symbol seen in many countries around the world. Having death constantly before your eyes encourages you to savour each moment of life.
I hope you’ve enjoyed this brief glimpse into a beautiful city with an ancient history!
Stephanie Huesler 