Saturday, July 28, 2018

Sidney Square Bear's Supreme Sacrifice to Save the Greenland Polar Bear

Lately I've been held captive by what I thought would be a short children's book with pictures and all, only to find the story had a life of its own. So instead of preparing a blog, I thought I'd give you an idea of what it's about (excluding editing)> So here goes:

Foreword
Being a history buff involves a great deal of research and verification of just about everything. It’s a lot more complicated than it seems at the outset. Had I known where this journey would take me, I might not have embarked on it.
I had no idea that my ancestor whose namesake I am was any sort of somebody, but a certain set of circumstances involving Bismark and military service set the whole business in motion.  Epp had after all, studied for years at the university to become an archeologist, and had no interest in picking up a gun and pursuing a military career. That wasn’t his way or the way of his people and he’d have nothing to do with it. Most of his people, beckoned by Katherine the Great went to Russia to drain those swamps as Epp had done in his young life in the Danzig area and he had no stomach for that either. So he pulled up stakes and left the Danziger swamps, going directly to Greenland where he thought it would be warm and inviting.
BLOODY HELL! It was colder there than any place he’d ever been. Well certainly Bismark wouldn’t go looking for him there! Somebody with a strange sense of humor had named this place, obviously to draw people there instead of . . . Iceland. Aha! That was it! Some Icelander had fabricated the name to draw people there instead of Iceland. Epp couldn’t see the advantage of that but then them Icelanders were a strange and adventurous lot anyway.
Having landed in Greenland ill equipped, Epp decided to make the best of it. There were a few people living there, mostly Eskimos they were called. They saw Epp’s plight and gave him shelter and warm clothing so he wouldn’t freeze to death. They were very sociable and kind to him, probably as much because he looked so different than they did as their generous and gregarious nature.
Being the sort of man he was, Epp was soon well clothed in skins and furs, had learned to eat the kinds of food they offered and was even beginning to learn the language, albeit haltingly. He went hunting and fishing with the men and relished in the feasts and social gatherings inside their igloos. In fact, they even taught him to make his own. Life up here in the north was about as good as it gets if you learn to adapt. And life was good for Epp.
It was on one of these fishing and hunting trips that Epp first learned of the Square Bear. The men were ice fishing while they waited for seals to come up for air. Well you had to multi – task to provide enough food for the village. One of the things that really impressed Epp was the series of rituals the Eskimos performed in their preparation to hunt and fish, asking permission from the fish and the sea to provide food for their table and giving thanks for its and their provisions. It wasn’t really dissimilar to what he was accustomed to although they were more directly speaking to the animals as though they were kindred spirits. They were it seemed, his kind of people after all.
After several days of fishing and sealing a sudden nervousness arose among the dogs in the team. It was almost imperceptible but they were fidgeting nervously, looking into the distance to the west. The Eskimos immediately began hurriedly hauling up their nets out of the ice holes in a panic state. Moving quickly like a well practiced team, they dumped loads of the fish in their sleds, leaving a large amount behind before taking off to the east in almost fearful fashion.
The only thing Epp could get out of them was that they had to get out of there before the giant Square Bear caught up with them. They hoped the food they’d left for him would be enough to keep him distracted while they got away to their home with what they had left. The dogs were straining at their harnesses as they dashed into the blowing snow. ‘Good’ said the hunters. The snow would cover their tracks and the bear(s) would be unable to track them. They would at least come home with enough food for the village.
Epp didn’t understand any of this at all. He’d have to find out more. Asking questions as they raced across the snow was useless. Dogs and men were fleeing as if for their lives and had no interest in explaining anything. It was a full day of this frantic travel before they started to slow down somewhat, following the dogs who seemed to know where home was in this blowing wind. Finally they stopped to eat a cold bite silently and then carry on into the night. The group traveled on in this way for three days and nights before reaching the welcoming committee at their home.
Things started to come undone at the welcoming feast when all were settled in and had eaten something. The hunters told of the dogs’ sensitivity about the legendary Square Bears and their flight. They were fortunate in having the wind to cover the sled tracks on the way home. That way they would never be found and the Square Bears would have enough food to distract them from giving chase.
Epp tried to enquire about the great Square Bears. Something was bothering him about this whole story. But the people would have none of it. They were far too excited about the adventure to pay any attention to him. He had so many questions and absolutely no answers.
Having spent two whole days and nights eating and drinking and storytelling, the band of people finally got weary and went to sleep one by one without a hint of answering any of Epp’s questions. He himself had slept intermittently and was kept awake by the haunting question. There was obviously a great mystery here that no one would speak about. It must be some kind of taboo. Well you don’t become an archeologist to just accept what you don’t understand, and that’s a fact. What you do is to find out for yourself.
And that’s where the adventure of a lifetime began for Dr. Victor Epp.

Sunday, July 22, 2018

Sidney Square Bear


Old Fat Square Bear Cropped.jpgSidney Square Bear’s Supreme Sacrifice to Save the Greenland Polar Bear
Imagined and recorded by;
Victor Epp
Descendant of the world traveler and Archeologist
Doctor Victor Epp

Saturday, July 14, 2018

Well - Spitting


Well – Spitting!
It seems to be an athletic sport; spitting, that is. It doesn’t matter what sport you look at, all the players are constantly spitting out their phlegm onto the field. Some of them are better spitters than players I think. Really, these people (unless they’re in a suit and tie) all do it. Yet, if you look around the world, there are fines in a lot of the cities and towns for spitting (among other things). I don’t know if they’re enforced or not, but they are there and they ought to be.
So what gives athletes the right to dispose of their germs all over the sports field? It’s disgusting behavior to start with, akin to having a pee against the park fence. And don’t think those germs don’t travel because they certainly do; only nobody takes note of it.
I think the whole business started with baseball and those players who chewed tobacco (another disgusting habit). Not having a cuspidor or spittoon at their disposal, they emptied their mouths on to the field. Of course they had to step in it and drag their germs all over the place.
The strange thing is that I’ve never seen any women athletes do any spitting, so it must be a male macho thing. In fact, thinking back to when we were kids, the guys used to do it all the time. I suppose it’s a “monkey see, monkey do” mentality.
Well, they used to have cuspidors in public places where you could get rid of your chewing tobacco mostly and any other garbage that had collected in your lungs and throat. In fact my own grandfather had a spittoon he used after contracting asthma. At least he didn’t leave his coughing fits all over the farmyard (though I wouldn’t have envied my grandmother having to clean the dad - blamed thing.) I imagine many a marriage was put to the ultimate test by cuspidor cleaning back in the day.
The point here is that today’s athletes aren’t spitting because something is in their lungs or their throat. They’re just spitting to spit. That’s the macho thing to do. Well, they’re a captive audience on the athletic field and can be fined for their spitting and that’s what I think should be done. Given their hefty salaries these days, one could raise a fair amount of fine money in the process.
That’s what I think.