The Daily Noggin

The Blue Ridge Parkway was built for one purpose: to be enjoyed. It runs 469 miles along the crest of the Appalachian Mountains, linking Shenandoah National Park in Virginia with Great Smoky Mountains National Park in North Carolina. Along the way there are no traffic lights, no billboards and no trucks hauling freight. The speed limit is mostly 45 miles an hour, and most travelers are happy to go slower.

Work on the parkway began in 1935, during the Great Depression, and it gave jobs to thousands of people. Building a road along mountaintops was slow going, and it took more than 50 years to finish. The last piece, the graceful Linn Cove Viaduct, which curves around the side of Grandfather Mountain without disturbing the rocks beneath it, opened in 1987.

The road is marked by mileposts, starting at zero at Rockfish Gap in Virginia, and travelers use them to find their way. At milepost 176 is Mabry Mill, a water-powered gristmill and sawmill that is one of the most photographed places on the parkway. Near Asheville, North Carolina, the Folk Art Center shows and sells traditional Appalachian crafts such as quilts, pottery and woodcarving. Farther south, the road reaches its highest point, 6,053 feet, near Richland Balsam.

Overlooks are spaced all along the way, each with a place to pull over and a view across ridge after ridge of blue mountains. The soft blue haze that gives the Blue Ridge its name comes partly from natural compounds that the forest trees release into the air.

Fall is the most popular season. Color usually begins at the higher elevations in early October and works its way down the mountainsides through the month. Spring brings wildflowers and blooming rhododendron, and summer offers cool air at the overlooks when the valleys below are hot.

A few practical notes: some sections close in winter because of snow and ice, gas stations are found in towns off the parkway rather than on it, and cell phone service can be spotty. Visitor centers along the route have maps and restrooms, and rangers are glad to suggest a short walk to a waterfall or a view.

Step off the ferry at Mackinac Island and the first thing you notice is the sound: the clip-clop of horses’ hooves. Cars have been banned on the island since 1898, when automobiles were new and noisy and frightened the carriage horses. The ban has stayed ever since, and the island has kept its unhurried pace.

The island sits in Lake Huron, in the Straits of Mackinac between Michigan’s two peninsulas. Its name is pronounced MACK-in-aw, the same as the nearby town of Mackinaw City. Ferries cross from Mackinaw City and from St. Ignace in about 15 to 20 minutes.

Most of the island is a state park. In fact, Mackinac was briefly the second national park in the United States, after Yellowstone, before it was handed over to Michigan in 1895 and became the state’s first state park.

Visitors get around by horse-drawn taxi, rented bicycle or on foot. A road of about eight miles circles the island’s shore. It is a state highway with no cars at all, and it makes a lovely bicycle ride, with views of the water nearly the whole way.

High on the bluff above the harbor stands Fort Mackinac, built by the British during the American Revolution. Its whitewashed walls and stone buildings are now a museum, where guides in period uniforms show what soldier life was like. Nearby is Arch Rock, a natural limestone arch that stands about 146 feet above the water.

The island’s grandest building is the Grand Hotel, which opened in 1887. Its long front porch, lined with rocking chairs and flags, is often called the longest porch in the world, at about 660 feet.

And then there is the fudge. Shops along Main Street have made fudge on marble slabs in their front windows for generations, and the sweet smell drifts down the street. Islanders even have a friendly nickname for summer visitors: fudgies.

The main season runs from May through October. In winter most shops close and only a few hundred people live on the island. When the lake freezes hard, islanders have traditionally marked a safe path across the ice to St. Ignace with old Christmas trees.

In the autumn of 1621, the English colonists at Plymouth, in what is now Massachusetts, gathered their first harvest. They had come through a terrible first winter in which about half of those who sailed on the Mayflower died. A good harvest was reason to give thanks.

About 90 Wampanoag men, led by their leader Massasoit, joined the colonists for a celebration that lasted three days. One of the few written accounts tells us the Wampanoag brought five deer, and the colonists went out hunting wildfowl. There is no mention of pumpkin pie. The colonists had no ovens for baking one and little or no sugar.

For more than two centuries afterward, days of thanksgiving came and went. Governors and presidents declared them from time to time, often on different dates in different states. New England families kept the custom most faithfully, with roast turkey, pies and long tables of relatives.

The person who changed that was Sarah Josepha Hale. She edited Godey’s Lady’s Book, one of the most popular magazines in the country, and she is also remembered as the author of the nursery rhyme “Mary Had a Little Lamb.” For about 17 years she wrote editorials and sent letters to governors and presidents, asking for one national Thanksgiving Day shared by the whole country.

In 1863, in the middle of the Civil War, President Abraham Lincoln agreed. His proclamation set aside the last Thursday of November as a national day of thanksgiving, and presidents repeated the proclamation every year after that. In 1941, Congress made the holiday permanent and fixed it on the fourth Thursday in November, where it remains.

Many of the traditions we know came later. Macy’s held its first Thanksgiving Day parade in New York City in 1924, with animals borrowed from the Central Park Zoo. The giant balloons arrived three years later. The Detroit Lions have played football on Thanksgiving almost every year since 1934.

Turkey suited the holiday well. It was native to North America, it was large enough to feed a crowd, and most farm families could raise their own. By the late 1800s, roast turkey with stuffing and cranberry sauce had become the dinner most Americans pictured when they thought of Thanksgiving.

Whatever is on your table this year, the heart of the day is the same as it was in 1621: a good harvest, good company and a moment to be grateful.

A new poetry anthology features writers of Chabacano, one of the Philippines’ 170 languages, which is widely spoken in the southernmost city of Zamboanga, and stands out as Asia’s only Spanish-based creole language.

The Philippines was a colony of Spain for more than three centuries, but the Spanish language was only used by the elite, friars, and colonial rulers. Only in Zamboanga did a Spanish-based creole language develop.

In 2018, Global Voices featured Bien Chabacano, a blog dedicated to promoting and documenting Chavacano de Zamboanga. Its creator, Jerome Herrera, launched a book project this year by inviting writers to submit poems to be compiled in an anthology. This led to the launch of the “Sombra y Luz” book in July, featuring 23 poems by 10 authors. The poems are mainly about love, family, and Zamboangueño identity.

Herrera said, “The project highlights not only the continued vitality of Chavacano as a literary language, but also the efforts of its speakers to create new literature and preserve the language through writing.”

He added that the book title aims to convey a message of contrast about the changes in Zamboanga City. The book cover also provides a nostalgic reference to the flowers that decorated the city in the past.

The cover features an American-era style lamppost that can be seen along the Zamboanga boulevard. The cover also features bougainvilleas which my dad tells me were ubiquitous in Zamboanga City back when it was known as the Ciudad de Flores.

One of the poems in the anthology, written by Jayline Gonzales-Barredo, mentions flowers and birds that enrich life in the city.

Maga pajaro que ta vola-vola,
Na maga rama de pono ta queda,
Alegre con uno y otro ta grita-grita,
Twit! Twit! Twit! Entero el dia.

Mio pueblo Ciudad de Zamboanga,
Ciudad de Flores que llama.
De noche mucho pajaro ay columbra,
Na maga cable de corriente ta esta.

Birds that fly and flutter freely,
Perched upon the branches of trees,
Singing and calling each other joyfully,
Tweet! Tweet! Tweet! All day long.

Oh, my beloved City of Zamboanga,
City of Flowers, they call you.
At night, many birds can be found,
Sitting on wires, that’s what they do.

In an interview with Global Voices, Herrera noted the heavy use of Spanish words in the selected poems:

…there is a lot of debate with regards to what Chabacano poetry should look like. For some, they like it with a lot of Spanish words and for others, they like it to be exactly as how Chabacano appears in everyday conversations. Most of the poems submitted leaned heavily on Spanish words, I think primarily because Chabacano writers rely on Spanish words to make their works sound more formal as well as more poetic. Since it’s poetry, I thought that it was alright to present Chabacano in an idealistic manner.

He added that the anthology seeks to encourage more people to accept the various ways that Chabacano is used.

For a very long time, people have been putting Chabacano inside a box. I hope that these books open up conversations regarding Chabacano literature and make people receptive to different kinds of writing styles in Chabacano.

This approach is evident in the poem “Escribi Chavacano, Conversa Chabacano,” which celebrates Chabacano as a living language.

Through references to poems, essays, fables, and the stories passed down by elders, the author reminds readers that the language continues to thrive when it is written, spoken, and shared with others.

The title itself is noteworthy for its use of both Chavacano and Chabacano, reflecting the coexistence of two accepted spellings of the language. In doing so, the poem highlights not only the importance of preserving Chabacano, but also the richness and diversity of its written tradition.

Herrera’s interview with Asymptote Journal noted the challenge of finding Chabacano contributors, and his hope that the book project can lead to more literary initiatives.

The biggest challenge is keeping the momentum going, since it’s hard to find Chavacano poets. Even so, I hope this anthology is just the beginning and that we’ll be able to publish a second volume in the future.

The bald eagle has been the national emblem of the United States since 1782, when it was placed on the Great Seal. With its white head, yellow beak and wings spanning about seven feet, it is one of the most impressive birds in North America.

Yet by the early 1960s, bald eagles had nearly disappeared from much of the country. A count in 1963 found only 417 nesting pairs in the lower 48 states.

The main cause was DDT, a pesticide used widely after World War II. It washed into rivers and lakes, built up in the fish that eagles eat, and caused the birds to lay eggs with shells so thin they broke during nesting. Year after year, fewer chicks hatched.

In 1972, the United States banned DDT for most uses. Eagles were protected by law, nesting sites were guarded, and in some places young eagles were raised and released to start new populations. Slowly, the birds began to return.

The recovery was so successful that in 2007 the bald eagle was taken off the list of threatened and endangered species. Today there are estimated to be more than 300,000 bald eagles in the lower 48 states.

Bald eagles are not actually bald. The name comes from an old meaning of the word: white-headed. Young eagles are mottled brown all over and do not get their white head and tail until they are about five years old.

Eagles build some of the largest nests of any bird, adding new sticks year after year. One famous nest in Florida measured nine and a half feet across and 20 feet deep.

Winter is a wonderful time to see them. When lakes freeze, eagles gather wherever water stays open, especially below the dams on the Mississippi River and other large rivers, where fish are easy to catch. Many towns along those rivers hold eagle-watching days in January and February, with spotting scopes and guides to help visitors find the birds.

There is something welcoming about a jigsaw puzzle spread out on a table. Anyone passing by can stop and fit in a piece or two, and before long a few minutes have turned into an hour.

Jigsaw puzzles began as teaching tools. In the 1760s, a London mapmaker named John Spilsbury mounted a map on a thin sheet of wood and cut around the borders of the countries. Children learned geography by putting the world back together. These “dissected maps” became a popular gift in well-to-do families.

For more than a century, puzzles were cut by hand from wood, one at a time, and they were costly. The name “jigsaw” was later borrowed from the fine-bladed saws used to cut them.

Puzzles became a true craze in America during the Great Depression of the 1930s. They were an inexpensive way to pass long evenings, and the whole family could work on one together. Some stores and lending libraries rented puzzles out, and newsstands sold a new puzzle each week. Around the same time, manufacturers learned to stamp puzzles out of cardboard with metal dies, and prices fell even further.

A few tips for your next puzzle:

Start with the edges. Find the flat-sided pieces and build the frame first. It shows you the size and shape of the picture.

Sort by color and pattern. Trays, muffin tins or shallow boxes make it easy to keep the sky pieces apart from the grass.

Use good light. A bright lamp over the table makes it easier to see subtle shades and shapes.

Choose a comfortable size. Puzzles with larger pieces, often 300 or 500 pieces in all, are just as satisfying as huge ones and easier on the eyes and fingers.

Make it last. A felt puzzle mat that rolls up lets you clear the table for dinner without losing your progress.

When you finish, you can glue the puzzle and frame it, pass it along to a friend, or donate it to a library or senior center. Many places hold puzzle swaps, so one good puzzle can bring pleasure to many tables.