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History Undusted: Burma-Shave

For those outside of the US and/or Millennials, the term “Burma-Shave” might be new to you – which is why I’d like to “undust” this fascinating little piece of history.

The 1920s was a time of change; World War 1 was over, and the following Spanish flu had wiped out more people than the war itself; the survivors just wanted to celebrate life. Out went the starchy mentality of Victorian dresses and in came the flappers; innovations and scientific breakthroughs fed the hunger for the new and anything that made life easier.

At the time, men shaved themselves with shaving cream applied to the face with a brush and a straight razor blade (still common into the 1950s, when the double-edged safety razor began to gradually take over).

Enter, the Burma-shave brushless shaving cream: Introduced in 1925 by the Burma-Vita Company in Minneapolis, Minnesota, it was purported to have come from “the Malay Peninsula and Burma.” It was, in fact, a result of chemical experiments by chemist Carl Noren. The monicker was a marketing gimmick, much like products touting to be “Swiss” that are unknown here (even “Swiss cheese” – which one of the hundreds is meant?). The cream didn’t really take off, and while other similar products were coming out of larger companies such as Barbasol and Gilette, Burma-Shave managed to beat the odds when their clever advertising campaign was hit upon.

Around this time, the Ford Model T had become a huge success, with millions of new automobiles on ever-expanding road systems. Roadside signage was taking off, and the advertising gimmick was destined to go down in history as one of the quirkiest success stories.

Burma-Shave ads were a series of signs along the road that concluded in the sign saying “Burma-Shave”. The first couple of years, the signs were rather prosaic ads for the company; but as they began bringing in repeat customers, the signs became bolder and more experimental. They became more humorous rhymes – usually five signs, with a sixth ending the series as “Burma-Shave”.

Here are a few examples:

  • Shaving brushes / you’ll soon see ’em / on the shelf / in some / museum / Burma-Shave (1943)
  • Uncle Rube / buys tube / one week / looks sleek / like sheik / Burma-Shave (1930)
  • A shave / that’s real / no cuts to heal / a soothing / velvet after-feel / Burma-Shave (1932)
  • Shaving brush / and soapy smear / went out of / style with / hoops my dear / Burma-Shave (1936)
  • The Burma girls / in Mandalay / dunk bearded lovers / in the bay / who don’t use / Burma-Shave (1937)

As cars began to speed up, safety messages increased around 1939:

  • Hardly a driver / Is now alive / Who passed / On hills / At 75 / Burma-Shave (1939)
  • If you dislike / big traffic fines / slow down / ‘till you / can read these signs / Burma-Shave (1939)
  • At crossroads / don’t just / trust to luck / the other car / may be a truck / Burma-Shave (1939)
  • Don’t pass cars / on curve or hill / if the cops / don’t get you / morticians will / Burma-Shave (1940)
  • At intersections / look each way / a harp sounds nice / but it’s / hard to play / Burma-Shave (1941)

When World War 2 came around, the signs reflected the social conscience:

  • Maybe you can’t / shoulder a gun / but you can shoulder / the cost of one / buy defence bonds / Burma-Shave (1942)
  • Shaving brush / in army pack / was straw that broke / the rookie’s back / use brushless / Burma-Shave (1942)
  • Slap / the Jap / with / iron / scrap / Burma-Shave (1943)
  • Tho tough / and rough / from wind and wave / your cheek grows sleek / with / Burma-Shave (1943)

A few humorous signs:

  • She kissed / the hairbrush / by mistake / she thought it was / her husband Jake / Burma-Shave (1941)
  • We know / how much / you love that gal / but use both hands / for driving pal / Burma-Shave (1947)
  • I use it too / the bald man said / it keeps my chin / just like / my head / Burma-Shave (1947)
  • Road was slippery / curve was sharp / white robe, halo / wings and harp / Burma-Shave (1948)
  • If you think / she likes / your bristles / walk bare-footed / through some thistles / Burma-Shave (1948)
  • A man / a miss / a car – a curve / he kissed the miss / and missed the curve / Burma-Shave (1948)
  • Our fortune / is your / shaven face / it’s our best / advertising space / Burma-Shave (1963)

Toward the latter part of the signage, they began recycling earlier messages. Road signs and maintenance became increasingly expensive, and cars sped by faster than ever. The signs disappeared from the roads in 1963 when the company was sold to Phillip Morris and they discontinued the marketing campaign, which turned out to be a mistake; sold once again, the product eventually disappeared, but the term “Burma-Shave” can still be heard, referring to short, quirky rhymes.

To read more about this topic:

Route Magazine: Defining the American Dream, One Sign at a Time

I hate to end / this fun article / but time is short / so here’s what’s possible / Burma-Shave examples from Pinterest:

This illustration is from “A History of the Burma-Vita Company”, written by Frank Rowsome Jr. and illustrated by Carl Rose (published by the Stephen Greene Press in 1963).

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History Undusted: The Atrocities of the Milan Conference

The topic of this article has been on my mind for the past two weeks; last week flew by so fast I barely had time to blink, let alone order my thoughts into coherent sentences. The topic was sparked by coming across an article online about what is known as the “Milan Conference” or “The Second International Congress on Education of the Deaf” (though it was, in fact, the first), held in Milan, Italy in 1880.

To give you a bit of my personal background, I learned BSL (The Glaswegian dialect) and translated for the deaf when I lived in Scotland. Being as close to that community as I was, I’d shockingly never heard about the Milan Conference until a fortnight ago.

When I first moved to Switzerland, I wanted to continue working with the deaf and began taking Swiss German sign classes. I immediately began hitting brick walls: The crux of the matter was spelled out – they didn’t want hearing people in their world. It made little sense to me back then, and it was frustrating. Also at that time, my husband wasn’t yet hearing impaired – which would have made a difference in their attitude toward me, as people with family members affected by hearing loss were more acceptable to them. In light of the Milan Conference, their reticence makes perfect sense. I never was able to break that barrier, and I’ve lost much of the sign language I once used fluently.

The conference was an international gathering of (hearing – with only ONE exception) educators of the deaf and mute. The imperialist arrogance of the discriminating resolutions passed profoundly wounded and damaged the deaf community for nearly 100 years.

To sum up the conference’s resolutions briefly, the majority decided that sign language was disadvantageous to integrating the deaf into the hearing world, and they banned – yes, banned – sign language from the education of the deaf in favour of “oralism” – forcing the deaf to read lips to make them assimilate to the hearing world’s culture. Deaf teachers lost their jobs, and an overall decline of deaf professionals resulted – they were no longer allowed the tools to communicate in their own language, and communication professions such as artists, lawyers and writers fell silent. Here in Switzerland, there was a two-fold impact: Deaf children were forced to sit on their hands and learn to lip-read from High German-speaking teachers; but when they went home on holidays, they couldn’t lip-read their own family’s dialects of Swiss German, and so they were isolated from society both in school and at home. The anger and resentment to the hearing world still runs deep.

Most disturbing for me is the fact that Alexander Graham Bell, whose own mother and wife were deaf and who worked with the deaf throughout his life – including helping bring Helen Keller out of her silent world as a blind and deaf girl – was one of the strongest proponents for oralism at the conference. The most famous picture of Bell and Keller is one in which Keller is finger-spelling on Bell’s hand. It is a form of sign language. Yet he advocated to eradicate it.

The resolutions of 1880 held their ground until they were overturned in 2013 when an official apology was issued to the deaf community. Eleven years ago. Let that sink in. Inroads were made to teach sign in pockets here and there; in America, most schools for the deaf only began teaching sign language again in the 1960s; in the UK it was around a decade later. Generations suffered under the restriction. [For those who have been deaf their whole lives – what’s known as pre-lingually deaf – it means that sign language is their first language, while spoken English is their second; this can lead to difficulties in understanding complex or abstract messages in English. Imagine being denied your own native language…] Only in 2003, the British government recognised BSL as a minority language – but so far, Scotland is the only country in the UK that has given BSL legal recognition. The shift in understanding and recognition had already been set in motion by the time I’d moved to the UK, which is perhaps why the Milan Conference was no longer a topic when I was involved in the deaf community.

The ban is the main reason there are so many regional dialects today: Even though sign language was officially banned, the deaf still needed to communicate among themselves, and so signs evolved “under the table” within each pocket of deaf students. There was no exchange of information; for example, “bread” took on the shape of the local speciality, so in the French part it looks like a long baguette, while in the Zurich region, it looks more like a half-sphere. There are 5 major Swiss-German dialects; in Scotland, there were at least 7.

Please click here to watch a ~13-minute video by Storied about the history of sign language and the Milan Conference. If you’d like to learn more about the timeline of sign language in Britain, please click here to visit University College London’s website, and to learn more about BSL in Scotland, click here to read the Scottish Parliament’s article.

ASL, American Sign Language, also has a forgotten predecessor that was largely written out of history: The Plains Indian Sign Language, also known as “hand talk”. For an interesting video about that history, click here.

 I hope you’ve enjoyed this brief insight into a long and tangled topic, and that it encourages you to look into it more.

Just as a parting trivia: Everyone recognizes the sign for phone; but did you know that it became a euphemism in some deaf communities for the restroom/loo? Back when restaurants had their public phones near the “small closets”, the Deaf would sign “phone” as a polite, covert way of saying they were going to the restroom/loo.

Below are the British Sign Language and the American Sign Language alphabets; I’d encourage you to learn one or the other and stretch those grey cells a wee bit!

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History Undusted: Memories of Hawaii

It’s hard to imagine, but the Hawaiian islands a generation ago were not a hotspot of tourism and a bustling modern culture; most people lived simple lives with few amenities. It’s also hard to imagine a time when exotic fruits were not found in your local store year round – exotic being bananas, kiwi fruit, avocadoes or papayas. My Swiss mother-in-law remembers when bananas came to Switzerland, and they were exotic and expensive; in her house, they were only bought for her brother, who was very sick at the time, as a source of energy; that was during World War 2.  Once, she confessed to stealing some money from her brother’s piggy bank to buy herself a banana.

By clicking here, you can watch a ~10-minute video of a series of short video clips from the 1920’s of Hawaii, interspersed with silent-film-era title cards.  Not only is it an interesting glimpse into a simpler time on the islands, but it’s also an insight into what the rest of America “knew” about the islands, foods and customs.   Back then, the world in general also knew very little about strange activities such as “surf riding” (surfing), and the footage of surfers is utterly tame compared to the monster wave-riding considered “for surfers” today!  Volcanic activity also seems to have been a fascination; such footage may well have been the first time anyone had seen such a thing outside of volcanic regions; it still had to be described in colours, however, such as “cherry red” for the lava, as the footage was, obviously, in black and white.

The image below is of King’s Mansion, in Kealakekua, Hawaii, on the Big Island.  As a student, I lived there in 1986 (my dorm window was the left bay window at the front).  We had avocado trees in the back garden, and our neighbour’s horses, across a stone wall, would come trotting to the wall when they saw us in the garden, hoping for an avocado; we’d feed them, entertained as they carefully chewed away the flesh around the pit (reminding me of an old man chewing tobacco!), and then skillfully spit the seed out.  At the bottom of our front garden stood a huge banyan tree [if you were standing on the covered lanai (porch) at the front of the house, it would be to your left – not shown]; it was a favourite tree to climb. At the bottom of our terraced garden was a volleyball court; it was popular, though we could also hike up the next hill over to the local school, where we could use their tennis courts. If you hit the ball over the high fence, you’d be hiking through the jungle to bring the ball back! Maybe the local students got tired of the same problem, as the jungle eventually gave way to a baseball diamond.

On 8 July, we were asleep in our dorm bunk beds; at around 2:30 a.m., I was awakened by what I first thought was my restless bunkmate – but which turned out to be an earthquake. The San Andreas Fault had slipped, and what had taken me 9 hours to fly took the earthquake 9 minutes to travel, hitting the Big Island. It kicked off a chain event of volcanic eruptions, aftershocks, and strange weather conditions: The heat of the volcanic air and the cool ocean created thick, milky white clouds at the level of our house (at the top of a hill) that rolled over our lanai and into the open classroom – soaking our books and the carpet the first time; after that, we got smart and put our books on our laps whenever the thick cloud rolled in. It also made gorgeous “sunsets” mid-day, as the volcanic ash dimmed the sun. I don’t know if they were connected, but soon after the volcanic eruption, Hurricane Estelle hit the islands; as King’s Mansion is up in the hills, we mainly felt the tropical storms, wind and rain, though it was creating 15 to 20-foot waves at one point, which we could see from our vantage point. I grew up in the heart of Tornado Alley and chased tornadoes for the fun of it as a teenager, so I took the earthquakes and storms in my stride.

One person deserves a special place in such memories: Gran’pa Joe Cho. He was a retired Hawaiian neighbour who enjoyed spoiling us rotten. He’d bring us treats and take us girls out on the town. He would admonish the boys to treat women right and then show them how to do it! One memorable evening, Joe Cho had taken a group of us girls out to get Kona Mud Pie, then to Manta Ray Point (aka the Kona Surf Hotel’s surf zone – the rays would swim around the underwater lights near the shore, catching the plankton attracted by the lights), and then we stretched out on a green of the Kona Country Club golf course, right on the edge of a rocky cliff, to watch the stars; we saw a meteor shoot so brightly that its reflection could be seen on the ocean waves.

It was a lifetime ago, but they will always be grand memories…

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History Undusted: The Westray Dons

My past two articles have been about everyday phrases with maritime roots; not only is a language affected by sailors, but sometimes entire populations.

Around the British Isles, there have been countless shipwrecks. The waters can be treacherous, with islets and rocky outcrops just under the waves – splinters of divided continents worn down by the power of the sea until they become hidden snares. My husband and I were once on holiday on St Mary’s, Scilly Islands; with every tide, flotsam fragments of shipwrecks (nearly 1,000 known so far) from the 16th through the 19th centuries wash ashore, and I gathered a handful of beach pottery and glass, not knowing at the time that the worn but still decorated pieces could be centuries old. Buried beneath the sand, they’d retained their colourful glazing until washed ashore.

That’s the goods and plates aboard; but what of the people? Many sailors of past centuries couldn’t swim; if their ships foundered too far from shore, they sank to Davy Jones’s Locker. Those who were fortunate enough to make it ashore were not guaranteed a safe sojourn; if the island had scant supplies, it could get ugly – as it did for Spanish sailors on Fair Isle (more on that in a moment). But first, a brief background on the situation that led to the Spanish Armada being in British waters, and their shipwrecks:

The reasons the Armada moved to attack England are complex; let’s just say that Philip II, heir apparent to the Spanish throne, had married (in a political manoeuvre) Bloody Mary, the Catholic queen of England, who’d had her Protestant half-sister, Elizabeth, placed under house arrest to prevent any political ambitions from growing in the Protestant faction. When Mary died childless, Philip (King of Spain and Portugal, as well as of Ireland and England through marriage and until Mary’s death in 1558) returned to his own kingdom in Spain, and Queen Elizabeth I ascended to the throne of England. But being the daughter of King Henry VIII and his second wife, Anne Boleyn (whom he’d had executed when Elizabeth was two years old), Elizabeth was illegitimate in the eyes of many Catholics, as her parents’ marriage had been annulled two days before her mother’s execution. Ironically, confinement hadn’t taught Elizabeth any compassion; she had her Catholic cousin, Mary, Queen of Scots, imprisoned for nineteen years, and eventually executed in February of 1587. Mary had been Spain’s Catholic ally, and her death was the final straw for Philip II of Spain, as the religious tensions had been mounting between England and Spain. Philip prepared his Armada, sailing out of Lisbon in 1588.

If you look at a map of Europe, you will see that Spain is southwest of the British Isles; they had to sail through the Bay of Biscay, and then either west of England through the waters between England and Ireland, or east through the English Channel and French waters (and the French were usually at war with everyone) to reach the east coast of England.

Sir Francis Drake’s Revenge, with Armada ships in the background. Credit, Wikipedia

The battle ensued; the English ships had superior long-range cannon, with which they harried the Spanish fleet. Weather and prevailing winds interfered; battle lines were redrawn, only to be scuppered again. In August 1588, the Spanish fleet had been defeated by Sir Francis Drake’s command of the English ships, and the remnants of the fleet retreated into the North Sea. By early September, seventeen ships had been lost to storms. Many of the ships not sunk by the British navy or taken out by the sea were blown onto the rocky shores of Ireland and Scotland; of the 150 ships that set out from Lisbon, only 65 returned.

Replica of the 16th century Spanish Galeón Andalucía. Photo credit, Fundacion Nao Victoria. Click on the image to see details about the ship.

Three of the ships were separated in the storm from the rest of the fleet: The Barca de Amburgo foundered off of Fair Isle, but the crew was rescued by the El Gran Grifón and the Trinidad Valencera. With the extra crew aboard, the El Gran Grifón tried to anchor to make repairs but was wrecked on the rocks of Stroms Hellier, Fair Isles (a steep, rocky outcrop of land halfway between Shetland to the north and Orkney to the south). According to historian Sir Robert Sibbald (1641-1722), the crew was on the island for two months (~August-September 1588); though they paid for their supplies, tensions were high with locals as food stores were meagre and “Spanish money doesn’t fill hungry bellies”. The island itself has never supported more than 400 inhabitants (today’s population is 65); the Spanish shipwreck brought 300 to shore. 50 of the crew either starved to death or were killed when the locals turned on them: Any Spaniard found alone was tossed over a cliff; when that wasn’t efficient enough, the islanders deliberately collapsed a flagstone roof over the sleeping crew.

The survivors fled; some to Shetland, and some to Orkney. Enter that dusty bit of history, the Westray Dons.

Westray is the northernmost island of the Orkney archipelago, a group of 70 islands*, 16 of which are inhabited (*or more, depending on who you ask – skerries or uninhabited islets may or may not count). They not only welcomed the Spaniards but intermarried with them. The men remained on the island, and their descendants became known as the Westry Dons. Spanish heritage is still seen in the Orcadian population today, though the Dons are no longer a separate community; Orkney has a higher percentage of dark-haired, dark-eyed inhabitants than any other Scandinavian-heritage region. Orcadian oral tradition, according to the Sanday folklorist Walter Traill Dennison, says that the Dons were exceptional seamen, many of whose descendants went on to become sailors and sea captains. The Dons largely adopted Orcadian surnames, the most common (but not exclusively) being Petrie, Hewison, and Reid.

I hope you enjoyed this quick dive; if you’d like to read and hear a Scottish song about the Dons, just click here (warning: It’s in thick Scottish brogue!).

To see a timeline of the Spanish Armada battle, just click on the image below.

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History Undusted: Keys

Some people collect things like stamps, postcards, or coins. I’m drawn to unique doors, locks, and keys.

Keys are something everyone has; whether it’s a house key, a car key, or an inner door key. Modern keys come in several forms: Lever (usually used in padlocks or furniture), pin tumbler, dimple, computerized laser (often used in cars), Nutech, cross, skeleton, barrel, transponder, cards, Abloy, and many more.

We tend to think of skeleton keys as antiquated, but here in Switzerland, even modern room doors within a home have skeleton keys for their locks (though we use dimple keys on main doors). Even though they’re still used, skeleton keys are one of the oldest forms of keys in history. The Romans had elaborate keys that were nearly as wide as they were long, but they already had the typical ringed head we think of when we think of a skeleton key; it made it easy to slip in a finger and pull the key out of the lock.

Roman Key Latch as old as 1st Century AD – Metmuseum

The oldest key found was in the ruins of Ninevah (the capital of ancient Assyria), going back to around 4,000 BC. It was a simple wooden prodder inserted into a hole in a door to lift pegs within a wooden bar used to hold the door securely from the inside; it could only be secured from the inside and was easy to open with any pegged stick. This type of wooden pin lock was common in ancient Egypt, but they’ve also been found in places like Japan and Scandinavia. It is alluded to in the Bible in such passages as Nehemiah 3:3,6,13-15 or Isaiah 22:22-23.

Ancient wooden peg key lock

The Romans improved on the idea and began making brass and iron keys with the ground-breaking technology of projections (wards) inside the lock that required a specific combination to be opened, thus requiring a specific key. The warded key outlasted the Roman Empire itself by more than a thousand years. Though these locks were easy to pick, no major advancements were made in the design until the late 18th century, when Robert Barron invented a new locking mechanism that we essentially recognize as the tumbler lock. Joseph Bramah improved further on the design a few years later, using a cylindrical key with patterned notches that aligned with the metal slides within the lock. The Bramah lock is still used and sold today (after finishing this article, take a moment on Google Images to search “Bramah lock” – you’ll see a wide range of old and new examples).  In 1818, Jeremiah Chubb improved the design by adding a retaining spring that held back a tumbler when shifted by the turn of the wrong key; this prevented not only the bolt from being lifted but indicated that someone had tried to pick the lock; they were known as detector locks.

Over time, many more improvements and refinements followed, until today’s key styles are so varied that a comprehensive list would be lengthy – there are variations within categories of keys; some cars today no longer even require a key to start. But to adapt the old adage of “where there are horses there are horse thieves”, where there is a lock there will be a lock pick. Even keyless cars are not theft-proof.

How many keys do you use daily? How have key styles changed in your lifetime?

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Books on Sale!

From 15 December 2023 through 1 January 2024, you can get all of my books on sale for 50% off!

Just click on the image below in that time, and search for my name, Stephanie Huesler!

You can also click on the book covers below to find them directly on Books2Read. From there, you can click on the link to Smashwords, which will take you directly to the sale.

Enjoy – from 18th-century fiction to historical fantasy to science fiction!

Please share these links with your friends and family who love to read! Thank you!

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History Undusted: Rolf Ganger, Viking Outlaw and Founder of Normandy

How does a rabble-rousing Viking end up causing a war centuries after his death (as if stirring up trouble during his lifetime wasn’t enough fun and gigs)? Read on… this is going to be a quick, deep dive into history, so buckle up!

Firstly, let’s start with Rolf Ganger, aka Rollo, Rolloun, Rollon, or Hrôlfr – depending on which language you read. On his tomb, the Latin version of his name is Rollonis (see image).

Tomb of Rollonis (Rolf) Ganger, the first ruler of Normandy, in Rouen Cathedral (He’d probably roll in his grave to find himself so simperingly portrayed…!)

The Heimskringla is a collection of ancient Norwegian sagas about Norwegian kings and rulers, written by Snorri Sturluson (great name, by the way) around AD 1230. It tells us that Rolf was the oldest legitimate son of Earl Ragnvald, best friend of King Harald Harfager (“Fair Hair” – a nickname given to him by the Earl due to Harald’s thick, fair hair), who was the first king of Norway, reigning from ca. AD 872 to 930. It tells us that Rolf was so hefty that no horse could carry his weight; thus, he had no choice but to walk everywhere, from which Ganger, his second name derives (I cannot find a direct translation of the meaning of the name, but Germanic languages have similar words: In German, “gehen” means go or walk; “gangart” means gait, or way of walking).

Harald Harfagre, First King of Norway – Statue in Haugusund, Norway

He was rowdy, even by Viking standards. Heimskringla records that he plundered most of the East Sea (likely referring to what is now the region around the Baltic Sea). Then, “One summer, as he was coming from the east on a Viking’s expedition to the coast of Viken*, he landed there and made a cattle foray. As King Harald happened, just at that time, to be in Viken, he heard of it, and was in a great rage; for he had forbid, by the greatest punishment, the plundering within the bounds of the country. The king assembled a Thing**, and had Rolf declared an outlaw over all Norway.”

*Viken was a region that lay over the modern border between Norway and Sweden.

**To assemble a Thing means to gather a council or general assembly. These still take place in some parts of Switzerland, as well as on the Isle of Man and in Scotland; the Icelandic Althing is considered the oldest active, surviving parliament in the world, dating back to the AD 900s. The first detailed description of such a Thing was made by Tacitus, a Roman historian and senator, in AD 98; the oldest reference to a Thing is inscribed on a stone near Hadrian’s Wall, dated as early as AD 43.

According to the Heimskringla, Rolf, now banished from Norway, headed toward the Hebrides, and from there to “Valland” [In Norse legend, Valland is the name of the part of Europe which is inhabited by Celtic and Romance peoples, and Snorri Sturluson mentions it several times as the Old Norse name for Gaul, which was a region of Western Europe first clearly described by the Romans, encompassing present-day France, Belgium, Luxembourg, and parts of Switzerland, the Netherlands, Germany, and Northern Italy, and covering an area of around 494,000 km2.].

Arriving in Gaul, he did what he did best – went a-Viking, plundering and pillaging and “subduing for himself a great earldom”. He populated it with his own best rabble of Norsemen, which the French called Normanz, literally “north men” which quickly led to the Anglicized term Normans (similar to the word for the people group and language, Norse).

One of the places known to have been invaded by the Vikings in AD 841 is the Jumièges Abbey, which is along the Seine River on its way to Rouen, which they also ransacked. At some point (around AD 885), Rolf also raided Bayeux, carrying off a woman, Popa (whose lineage is unverified – later historians for the duke may have sanitized her parentage to legitimize their son’s noble lineage, as she was married “more danico”). She gave birth to his heir, William Longsword. When Rolf and his gang were all done hacking their way through towns and villages along the Seine, they eventually made their way back to Rouen, where he established the Duchy of Normandy in AD 912.

So, how did Rolf cause a war centuries later? Well, his son, William Longsword, fathered a son, Richard the Fearless (who became ruler of Normandy at the age of 10 when his father died). Richard’s son was called Richard the Good, and he became the father of Robert the Magnificent and grandfather to the illegitimate William the Bastard, who became known as William the Conqueror (a sword seems to have cleared up his illegitimacy quite neatly) – from whom all the subsequent English kings descended. Now to the crux of the matter: William, descendent of Rolf Ganger, fathered English kings, who thus claimed their right to the Norman throne by connection, birth, rank… in short, any excuse for raiding was still in their blood. Rouen was one of the largest and most prosperous cities of medieval Europe, and (as mentioned in my last post) was made wealthy through textiles and trade along the Seine River and beyond. Rouen became the focal point of the Hundred Years’ War (1337-1453) because of that pesky connection. So now ya know!

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Virtual Tour: Vintage Switzerland

I’ve been preparing my manuscripts for new releases through a new publisher, and making crafts for our church’s annual craft sale; in the latter process, I’ve discovered a wealth of images through Pinterest (nothing new to me in itself). How many of you used to collect stamps, or postcards, or specific objects? For me, the new method is Pinterest. You can find stamps on any topic, and rare ones; you can find coins, bank notes, and just about anything you used to collect physically, now available at a click with historic backgrounds and full details you could never have fit into an album.

But today, I’d like to focus on Vintage travel posters, specifically for Switzerland. So far, I have nearly 350 in my collection, and it’s likely a drop in the bucket of what was produced; every region advertised itself to attract tourists or travellers, and it’s fascinating to see what they highlighted, how they did so, what their perspective was, and how the people dressed (if they’re shown – in Switzerland, at least, a big focus is on the Alps). Did you know that the word “homesick” in English came from Switzerland? The Swiss merchants that travelled abroad in the 17th century took the word with them; when they spoke of “Heimweh”, however, they weren’t referring to people, or their home, or even their town, but of the mountains. They missed the Alps when they were away… and I can understand why. I think it must run in the veins of every Swiss-born person; when my husband and his mother speak of the mountains, it’s a foreign language to me (even though I’m fluent in Swiss German!).

We might tend to think of tourism as a modern thing; but Grand Tours began in the 17th Century, when wealthy young men, and sometimes women, would embark from the UK on a European tour. At the beginning, Switzerland was a sleepy backwater in some ways – there were few, if any, hotels – if a traveller arrived in a town seeking accommodation for themselves, their servants, postillions and horses, they were often invited to stay in the home of the local politician, who likely had the largest house… But the Swiss soon caught up with the trend, and tourism became a vital source of income, especially for small settlements in the mountainous regions.

The three images below are, from left to right, from 1897, 1865, and likely the early 19th century. The house shown in the Zinal ad is typical of Wallis (Valais in French): It is built on stilts with round, flat stones between the pillar and house base; we chatted with an elderly man when we were on holidays in the region and asked him about it; it is a way to keep rats and mice out of the houses. It also means that the back, and sometimes even the front, is only accessible by ladder.

The 1865 poster is about a tour organized by Thomas Cook, a well-known name in the British travel industry even today; Cook took his first tour group of around 485 people on an 11-mile train trip from Leicester station to Loughborough, in 1841. Soon, he began to expand his scope, and by the 1860s, that included Switzerland.

The Spiez poster below shows the castle and lake; The Zürich poster shows a view over Lake Zürich from atop the Uetliberg mountain, the summit of which is called Uto Kulm. To see a live-cam panorama from that vantage point, just click here. The Mürren poster is a view typical of every Alpine pasture, even today.

The next 3 images are firmly in the Alps: The glacier shown in the first image is the Aletsch Glacier, the largest in the Alps, covering around 80 square kilometres (31 m2), with a length of ~23 km (14 miles) with a maximum thickness of ~1 km of ice. As with most glaciers in the world, it is retreating. Gotthard (officially the Saint-Gotthard Massif) is an impressive region connecting north and south Switzerland between Uri and Ticino, German- and Italian-speaking cantons, respectively. It has long been a major axis of Europe, with a road across, a vehicle tunnel through (built 1980), a cargo and transport train tunnel (opened 1882), and now a passenger- and vehicle-transport train tunnel which opened in 2016 and is the world’s longest railway tunnel and the deepest traffic tunnel, as well as the first flat low-level tunnel through the Alps. The 3rd poster highlights the Lötschberg, a massif with a train transport tunnel linking the north and south of Switzerland through the Berne and Valais routes. We often take this route when going to Valais or Ticino on holidays; the train is an open, continuous carriage, meaning you drive on, sit in your car, and watch the tunnel fly past.

The next 3 posters highlight something nearly ubiquitous in Switzerland: Lakes. They’re everywhere. We even share Lake Constance with Germany and Austria, and Lake Geneva with France. From border to border, we have over 100 main lakes and countless smaller ones (in an area what easily fits within the state of Maine, US, to give you a size comparison). The first poster is encouraging locals to explore, commemorating the 650th anniversary of the formation of the core of Switzerland. The second shows Lake Lugano from the perspective of Monte Bre, with the city of Lugano along the shore. It’s a perspective I know well, as the family had a holiday home on the flanks of Monte Bre until last year. San Salvatore is the mountain peak shown. The third poster is of the Vierwaldstättersee (“Lake of the four forested settlments”): This is the most complex lake in Switzerland, and not only for its names: In English it’s known as Lake Lucerne, although that is just one arm of the sprawl. Sections are Lake Lucerne, Lake Urner, Lake Kussnacht, Chrüztrichter and Lake Alpnacher. The many-armed lake is shared by the cantons of Uri, Schwyz, Obwalden, Nidwalden (originally one canton known as Unterwalden) and Lucerne. Signs of settlements found by archaeologists go back to at least 3,000 BC. To see this lake through live-cams, just click here. The site is in German, but just click on the view you’d like to explore.

I hope you’ve enjoyed this virtual tour! And perhaps you’ll come to Switzerland one day to see it for yourself!

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Filed under Articles, Etymology, Family History, History, Links to External Articles, Nature, Snapshots in History, Virtual Tours

History Undusted: William Caxton (the father of English as we know it today)

I’ve been trying to blog the last few weeks, but to do so, it helps to be logged in to WordPress – and it kept logging me out every time I switched to my site. I finally found the solution this morning, so here I am!

One thing I’ve been ruminating about is the etymology of everyday words; words come from somewhere, and I’ve always wondered what word(s) were used before a word came along. There are famous examples of invented words that never stuck, such as Lewis Carol’s “Jabberwocky“, but what I’m referring to are common words. What did they use before the word “egg” came along? The word itself comes from Old Norse, eggys, eggja, or egge, but before the common spelling was decided on, every English dialect in Britain had at least a couple of different spellings of the word!

William Shakespeare (1564-1616) is sometimes credited with having created upwards of 1,700 words, but many of those were likely already in circulation – he simply wrote them down in his plays. Some words accredited to him are: dishearten; dislocate; auspicious; obscene; monumental; majestic; accommodation; amazement; dwindle; exposure; bloody; countless; courtship; impartial; gnarled; gloomy; generous; reliance; pious; inauspicious; bump; frugal; submerge; critic; lapse; laughable; lonely, suspicious, and many, many more.

But long before William Shakespeare drew breath, there was another William who influenced English in profound ways, and yet his name is little known today: William Caxton. Born around 1420, he was a merchant, printer and the first English retailer of books; he introduced the printing press to England, set up in Westminster, 1476. Though he published many books, the first book he is known to have published is The Canterbury Tales, by Geoffrey Chaucer (1340s – 1400); that work alone is credited with influencing both the English language and literature, as it shows a clear correspondence between the rhythm of written English poetry and the cadence of spoken English. Chaucer is also known for having looted the French language, bringing into English such words as governance, paramour, difficult, dishonest, edifice, and ignorant, to name a few. Chaucer was aware of the wide variety of English dialects, which we would never recognize as English today, and he was anxious about the confusion of languages in Britain and that his work would be able to be comprehended in the future. In his poem, Troilus and Criseyde, he bids it a poignant but troubled farewell: “Go, litel bok . . . And for ther is so gret diversite In Englissh and in writyng of oure tonge, So prey I God that non miswryte the [thee]. . . . That thow be understonde, God I biseche!”

However, because William Caxton chose to publish Chaucer’s work, we still have it to this day. Caxton was also the first to translate Aesop’s Fables into English (1484). Although he was not a great translator and sometimes simply used the French word “Englishified”, his translations were popular; because of that, he inadvertently helped promote Chancery* English as the standard English dialect throughout England. (*Chancery refers to the dialect used by the officials of Henry V’s government). Thanks to men like William Caxton and those who followed, refining and shaping the language we know today, we are able to enjoy a standard English spelling and grammar structure that is understood around the world; there are still regional and national dialect differences, but we can be understood wherever in the world English is used.

If you’d like to learn more about this topic, one book I can highly recommend is Melvyn Bragg’s The Adventure of English (The Biography of a Language); it’s available in physical form, e-book, and audiobook.

William Caxton

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Filed under Etymology, Grammar, History, History Undusted, Links to External Articles, Lists, Poetry

Humanity Highlight: Redeeming Toxic Land with Lavender

I came across this story today, and wanted to share it: In the US, coal mining used to be big business; but with the move away from fossil fuels toward solar and other less destructive sources, companies have been in decline; before the mid-1970s, mining companies could just abandon the scarred land, but laws were passed that would require the companies to revitalise the wasteland; but if a company simply went bankrupt, the land sat barren, polluting the surrounding environment for decades, as rocks and minerals that had been buried forever were exposed to air and water, releasing their substances into groundwater and the air. Millions of acres of scarred land are the result.

Now, Appalachian Botanical Company in West Virginia has begun reclaiming the land in a beautiful way: Hiring ex-miners who’ve lost their jobs or other people who need a second chance just like the land, such as ex-drug addicts, they are now working in fields of flowers. Lavender is a hardy plant in the mint family that likes to grow in poor soil; it’s a perfect match for the rocky wastelands around coal mines. Every part of the plant is used: The flowers and upper stems are distilled down to make lavender essential oils that are then also used to make various creams and lotions, honey, salts, and hand sanitisers; when it’s done, they transform the biomass into compost to revitalise the land. The lower leaves are first removed, dipped in rooting powder, and planted to make the next harvest.

It’s an amazingly holistic approach to the problems: Creating jobs in the regions that have been hard-hit by economic downturns; revitalising the land through restoration – lavender will help prepare the land for other less hardy species to take root; and on a larger scale, it provides an example of what could be done with scarred land. To watch the Business Insider video, just click here. To check out the ABCo website and their products, click on the image below. Enjoy, and if you’d like to support what they’re doing, check out the pages on their websites, too.

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Filed under Articles, How It's Made, Humanity Highlights, Links to External Articles, Nature, Science & Technology, Videos, YouTube Link