History eroding--Two Quotes

The greatest of human inventions is the library, a vast repository of collective memory far larger than any single mind can hold….So long as one's narrative survives, one's ideas and versions of history are passed along, like genetic code, to ensuing generations. Control what goes into the library, what becomes the available record, and you control what the future thinks" (The Persistence of Memory, Tony Eprile).


From the New York Times
Feb. 21 -- In a seven-year-old secret program at the National Archives, intelligence agencies have been removing from public access thousands of historical documents that were available for years, including some already published by the State Department and others photocopied years ago by private historians.

The restoration of classified status to more than 55,000 previously declassified pages began in 1999, when the Central Intelligence Agency and five other agencies objected to what they saw as a hasty release of sensitive information after a 1995 declassification order signed by President Bill Clinton. It accelerated after the Bush administration took office and especially after the 2001 terrorist attacks, according to archives records….

Anna K. Nelson, a foreign policy historian at American University, said she and other researchers had been puzzled in recent years by the number of documentspulled from the archives with little explanation.

''I think this is a travesty,'' said Dr. Nelson, who said she believed that some reclassified material was in her files. ''I think the public is being deprived of what history is really about: facts.''

Swiss Army Knife

This illustration came in the package of a Swiss Army knife I bought recently. I was struck by two of the devices.

Seat Belt Cutter

Doesn't this seem just a bit too specific? Don't use this on oranges, masking tape, pants cuffs, sweater strings, flower stems, drinking straws, or twine. Save the edge for when you are upside down in your Subaru and need to saw through your seat belts before the gas tank blows.

I know my luck. The day I smash the Toyota and am trapped by my seat belt is the day I leave my Swiss Army knife on the dresser

2) Pharmaceutical Spatula

Sometimes called the Dubya blade, this brings back memories of the bad old days of disco, when the guys with the perms wore pharmaceutical spatulas (spatuli?) on a gold chain around their necks.

Check out the French Army Knife

Bile Beans

Bile beans are the new almonds.

Last Visit to the Berghoff

Yesterday we ate our last meal at the Berghoff, one of the most beloved restaurants in Chicago. When people who had never been to Chicago before would visit, we'd take them to the Art Institute and the Berghoff. Its hard not to fall in love with a city that has both Nighthawks at the Diner and a place that serves great braised lamb shanks with a side of creamed spinach.

The restaurant, which has been in business since 1898 and has the first liquor license issued in Chicago after the repeal of Prohibition, closes at the end of February. A little bit of Chicago history dies then too.

We tried to get to the restaurant at 'tween time to see if we could beat the rush. We got there at 2:30 on a Saturday and we still waited for over an hour. We were lucky enough to get a table on the main floor to see the murals and wooden wall panels one last time. We were also glad to see the Christmas lights were still up.

A table across the room was celebrating a birthday. The waiter presented a woman with a special birthday cake: A rounded pink cake shaped like a skirt with a Barbie doll emerging from the center. The waiter and a busboy started singing "Happy Birthday." The whole room joined in. When the song was over, the room started clapping. The person who had presented the woman the cake held it over his head and the clapping surged and continued.

This isn't just a restaurant with good food. This is a place rich in family traditions and memories. Throughout our meal I saw lots of people asking the people at neighboring tables to take a quick snapshot, a memory of the their last visit to the Berghoff.

Chicago will seem a poorer place without this restaurant.

El Sighting

A guy about sixty, wearing a red T-shirt and jean shorts, gets on the el and sits down on one of those inward-facing seats next to the door. My eye is drawn to something dangling from a leather strap around his neck. It takes me a moment to make it out: a nail clipper. I look to his fingernails: gnawed down about two-thirds past the cuticle. He spends the rest of the trip chewing on one stumpy nail then moving to the next.


There’s a line in William Kennedy’ Ironweed about someone chewing with “insatiable revulsion.” But he doesn’t look revolted, so I guess the revulsion is mine.