Mobile, Alabama: USS Drum, the World War II Submarine

 

USS Drum submarine, USS Alabama Battleship Memorial Park. Mobile, Alabama. June 2022. Credit: Mzuriana.

 

The name

 I didn't have any feelings about the name of this World War II submarine - Drum - until I consulted with my submarine-expert friend, Drake, while I was in the Drum's belly.

I wondered - why would a military force give a weapon of war such an ignominious name as Herring (which was etched on an outdoor stone tablet for another vessel)? I mean, herring? You eat herring. And that's when he told me that the Navy bestowed its submarines with names of non-sexy fish precisely because they can move under the radar, both figuratively and literally. 

When he said this, I thought, oh, that's clever. 

That's also when the name of the USS Drum struck me. Ohhhhh, drum, like that boring fish that is so opposite of sexy from trout or catfish or stingray or shark. 

Even so, Drake's explanation is likely apocryphal, as it's more likely that there were more Navy vessels than there are fish with common names, so you can see that once all of the sexy fish names were taken, the Navy was left with the more mundane. Like herring and drum. 

Another variable, as described by the guy whose job it was to propose vessel names, Captain William K. Calkins, USNR: 

"Captain Calkins described the many difficulties involved in choosing a name for any vessel. The names could not be similar to another ship's name currently in the fleet and it had to be appropriate, i.e. not something that would easily be made fun of. In addition: 'Spelling and pronunciation both had to be reasonably simple. The average enlisted man (and his girl friend) must be able to say the name comfortably. If his best girl couldn't spell it, he might not get her letters.'"

Source: A Fish Story, Smithsonian Institute Archives

Anyhoo.

Slide show here and below: 

 

Everything about a submarine fascinates. The requisite compactness of everything - even the officers' quarters - the intrinsic danger of living for long chunks of time underwater - not just under water, but under all of that pressure of water from above - the engineering required even to flush a toilet safely - living in small spaces for long periods with other humans.  

The smells of fellow humans, the sounds that human bodies make, the petty annoyances that can't help but accumulate and flood one's brains at times.

Some engrossing videos about the USS Drum:

• USS Drum oral history by veterans who served on the Drum

 

 Take the tour virtually here, courtesy of the History Traveler: USS Drum

 

 U-1206 Toilet Disaster

• A bit on the two people who oversaw USS Drum rehab - the man, Tom Bowser, served on a nuclear sub - he was also the guide in the History Traveler video. Here is his book on the rehab.
  

Stuff that stood out for me

72 men served on the Drum and only two toilets and two showers! 

Of course, I'm thinking each man had his favorite bottle with a screw-on lid on it for quick fixes, saving the toilets for the Big Jobs.

Mobile skyline from USS Drum submarine. USS Alabama Battleship Memorial Park. Mobile, Alabama. June 2022. Credit: Mzuriana.

 

Mobile, Alabama: A Bloom of Jazz and Beauty and Our Gregarious Souls Together Again

 

 

Mother's Day Jazz at Washington Square Park, Mobile, Alabama. May 2022. Credit: Mzuriana.

As we emerge from COVID's long winter, outdoor music gatherings bloom. Their return - reunion - communion - brings tears. 

Mobile's lovely Washington Square Park was the site of a joyful jazz celebration of Mother's Day. The Excelsior Band opened, followed by the Mobile Big Band Society. 

The park is in my neighborhood. Based on a couple of recent experiences, I presumed that "Mobile Time" was similar to "El Paso" time or "Border Time" or "Caucasus Georgia Time." 

So I ambled down a few minutes after the 3:00 p.m. start time of this Mother's Day event. 

On the contrary! Not only were there already lots of folks at the park, but there were tables and chairs with white tablecloths set up! Other tables, with Easter-y colored tablecloths! Garden chairs, lawn chairs, beach chairs, and blankets. 

 

Mother's Day Jazz at Washington Square Park, Mobile, Alabama. May 2022. Credit: Mzuriana.

Bottles of wine and other adult beverages cooling in chiller containers. Cut fruit. Crudites. Pretty hats. Pastel blouses and summer dresses and bermuda shorts. Sun hats and fedoras and Derby Day-type confectionary hats.

Mobile knows its festival-in-style shit. 

Mother's Day Jazz at Washington Square Park, Mobile, Alabama. May 2022. Credit: Mzuriana.

 

The best al fresco dining "room" arrangement was next to where I plopped my chair. The designer even attached a floral chandelier to a branch that extended above the table. She told me she used a Mardi Gras hula hoop, attached Spanish moss to the perimeter, spray-painted that gold, then added artificial flowers. 

May-time dining "room" at the park for Mother's Day Jazz. Washington Square Park, Mobile, Alabama. Credit: Mzuriana.

And the music - that ol' jazz brain massage. A taste here: 

The bouncy vigor of the Mobile Big Band Society's double bass player reminded me of Sorry About Your Sister at the Bad Ass Mountain Music Festival in Cloudcroft, New Mexico. And the energy of the double bass player in the Juarez border band, Viva Las Vegas, at the Fountains' summer music series.

 

 

Mother's Day Jazz at Washington Square Park, Mobile, Alabama. May 2022. Credit: Mzuriana.

Mother's Day Jazz at Washington Square Park, Mobile, Alabama. May 2022. Credit: Mzuriana.

 A slide show of Washington Square Park, which includes the Mother's Day Jazz: 

 How heartening the day.

Mobile, Alabama: Christmas 2021

 

British Park on Christmas Day in Mobile, Alabama. December 2021.

My Mobile neighborhood is, arguably, the prettiest I've ever lived in. Any day that I take a walk here is a good day. 

 

Note: I make a distinction between pretty and striking. El Paso is the most striking place I've ever lived in.

On Christmas Day, I walked to nearby British Park. Twice. Once during the day and once at dusk, to better appreciate the holiday lights. 

A slide show of my Christmas visit below:

 

A buoyant big dog, also out for a Christmas walk, romped: 

Some Christmases past

2012: Santa Fe, New Mexico

2013: Lafayette, Louisiana

2016: El Paso, Texas

2013: Rootless: On Doing Holidays Solo

 

Mobile, Alabama: Fungus Foray at Historic Blakeley State Park

Petite white mushroom, Historic Blakeley State Park, Alabama. October 2021.

 

Mushrooms. Umami. Mmmm.

Despite their predilection for growing on dead stuff, mushrooms are often pretty, or at least intriguing, and to bite one is to transport me to a sensual reverie of flavor, aroma, texture, and chewiness. Earthy.

Fungi Farm, a local commercial mushroom farm, hosted a mushroom foraging foray at Historic Blakeley State Park in early October.

Mushroom, Historic Blakeley State Park, Alabama. October 2021.

 

'twas hot and sweaty work, but so satisfying to be in the woods. We were a group of at least 25 people.

One of my favorites was this velvety mushroom that reminded me of the so-soft lamb's ear leaves. And on its underside, you could leave your fingerprint. 

Mushroom, Historic Blakeley State Park, Alabama. October 2021.

Mushroom, Historic Blakeley State Park, Alabama. October 2021.

Major lesson learned from the foray: Bring a pocket notebook! Alan, a Fungi Farm principal, helped identify the mushrooms we found, and although the names of many remain rooted in my head, the matching of same with the samples are fuzzy. Like said mushroom above. But some names include (mixing common names and scientific names of individuals and genus) turkey tail, false turkey tail, boletes, russula, and .......

 Below is a sample of the group's foraging finds.

Mushroom, Historic Blakeley State Park, Alabama. October 2021.

A slide show below on my cumulative mushroom collection over the years and locales.

 

 

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Birmingham, AL: A Sunday Afternoon in Railroad Park

 

 

Railroad Park in November. Birmingham, Alabama, November 2020.

Despite Sunday's gray chill, I packed a lunch and took it to Railroad Park. 

 

Railroad Park in November. Birmingham, Alabama, November 2020.

I planted my car on the park's perimeter, pulled out my 'table,' hung it on the steering wheel, and picnicked inside as folks walked, ran, were strollered, or skimmed smoothly by on their motorized longboards. A young boy, just learning how to ride his boy-sized bike, concentrated on propelling forward while remaining upright; his mother followed on foot. 

 

Railroad Park in November. Birmingham, Alabama, November 2020.

Because of COVID-19, the park's restrooms are closed, which curtails the length of a visitor's stay at the park. 

 

Railroad Park in November. Birmingham, Alabama, November 2020.

There are two circle paths, one street level and one elevated. I like that! An elegant allocation of the park's finite green space that delivers two unique lines of sight to park users and offsets trail user congestion.

 

Railroad Park in November. Birmingham, Alabama, November 2020.

Railroad Park serves up a diverse sensory menu: Trees, water features, rosemary stands, a grassy amphitheater, the paths, cityscape, wood, concrete, metal, sculpture, flowers ...

I plucked three plump rosemary leaves, rolled their little bodies between my thumb and two fingers, and carried them up to my nose for the snap of the eucalyptic-like aroma that the rolling released. I popped them into my mouth to bite on their ripe softness, savoring a burst of their herbal-medicinal flavor.

 

Railroad Park in November. Birmingham, Alabama, November 2020.

A coffeehouse, Red Cat, is across the street from Railroad Park, and I realized, hey! I sat right there in late summer, as a fresh arrival to Birmingham, and didn't even notice that it was smack across from a park! Like the young boy on the starter bike, I had concentrated solely on one mission, which in my case, was finding Red Cat to meet a new friend, and then upon arrival, my telescopic focus pivoted to our conversation. Being unaware of one's immediate surroundings is not a good practice, friends.

Railroad Park in November. Birmingham, Alabama, November 2020.

Tucson, AZ: Catalina State Park

 February 2020

 

Catalina State Park, Tucson, Arizona. February 2020.

Catalina State Park offered an outdoor photography seminar by Bruce Turnbull, a nature photographer who winters in Arizona. 

 

Catalina State Park, Tucson, Arizona. February 2020.

 

I took notes. They are meager. I'll lay them here for my future revisiting. Obviously, any inaccuracies in the notes are mine and not Mr. Turnbull's. 

 

Catalina State Park, Tucson, Arizona. February 2020.

Wildlife

• 5.6 aperture
• 1/500 speed or faster (for something slow moving)

 

Catalina State Park, Tucson, Arizona. February 2020.

 

 Landscapes

•  SO as low as possible
• Speed 1/60 to 1/100, the bigger the #, the smaller the aperture
• Goal: same sharpness from foreground to background
• The larger the ISO, the grainier the photo

 

Don't go any slower than your lens size. 

 

Catalina State Park, Tucson, Arizona. February 2020.

 

With flowers or wildlife, you want your target to be in focus, but the background blurred - because you want your target to be the center of attention. 

 

Here is a slideshow of my Catalina State Park photos. What a glorious day it was.

 

Catalina State Park, Tucson, Arizona. February 2020.

St. Louis: Castlewood State Park: Spring Signs

Castlewood State Park, Missouri. April 11, 2018.

A slow walk on a Castlewood State Park trail on a sunny, warm Wednesday.

The trees haven't leafed out yet, but there are several varieties of wildflowers waving in the breeze - deep purples, some flashes of underside-fuschia, white, periwinkle blue.

Dismembered carcasses of trees pounded by last year's flooding lay atop the grasses.


A sweet, breezy video below of white wildflowers:

Missouri: Cuivre River State Park

Cuivre River State Park. June 2016.

I spent a June afternoon at Cuivre River State Park with family members who were camping there for the weekend.

Cuivre River State Park. June 2016.

We went on a photography walk.

Cuivre River State Park. June 2016.

I played with my new camera, with mixed results.

Cuivre River State Park. June 2016.

 Much more practice ahead.

Cuivre River State Park. June 2016.

Cuivre River State Park. June 2016.

Cuivre River State Park. June 2016.

Cuivre River State Park. June 2016.

It wasn't all about flowers. There were crawdads in the river. Not sure how their taste would stack up against the mudbugs in South Louisiana.

Cuivre River State Park. June 2016.

And I followed one of my descendants on the trail. She always likes to be out front.

Cuivre River State Park. June 2016.