Thanksgiving Day at the computer taking a break.  On Facebook ragging one of my nieces about getting to eat Thanksgiving with the family while Cindy and I had to work.  The chair and floor started to move.  Now I come from Southern Appalachia, coal country.  We have abandoned shaft mines that collapse on occasions and you feel some one reach up and smack the bottoms of your feet from inside the earth, but one tap and its done.  This event was extended somewhere around 6 to 8 seconds (I finished the note to Jessie and discussed with Cindy that yes this is an earthquake and perhaps we ought to get outside)…  I did not now that concrete could move in wave form.  I wonder if “harmonics” is a factor in building destruction in major earthquakes?  This was a 5.9 earthquake centered close to the coast of El Salvador… 90 miles from us as the crow flies.

The next thought that came to mind is how arrogant we mere mortal men are.  We believe we are in control of weather, the earth etc.  We are our own gods!  Think you are in control of your life and circumstances, come to earthquake and volcano country and feel the tile floor turn to water.  After Job, a righteous man, says he wants to tell God a thing of two, God tells Job to come stand before Him and ‘gird up your loins like a man’! (Job 38:3)  Job is essentially speechless as God gives in the next four chapters how we can know that He is God and we will never be.  Job’s response is to clap his hand over his own mouth. 

So does your life feel out of control… it IS!  It’s out of your control.  God gives us “stewardship” over the earth.  It is not ours, it is His.  Watch and see.  Look at the character of men who believe in global warming for example.  God laughs at these men.   A couple of years ago the Governator of California announced a new government program in that state to deal with global warming and that night the orange crop froze on the trees.  We now have this week the announcement that a group of scientists and professors responsible for Al Gore’s famous Hockey Stick graph, have been manipulating the data and deleting emails and data that doesn’t fit their presumptuous ideology… how do you define the word LIE?  We are not little gods.  We are not in charge.  We are servants to one of two masters.  Can I encourage you to read these four chapters of Job (38-41)?  Remember God held Job up as the prime example of a righteous man.  Notice Job’s response to God in 40:1-5 and 42:1-6.   If righteous Job says, “I retract and repent in dust and ashes,” my response to the Only Holy God must have NO ARROGANCE, but in all humility be one of repentance, desiring a life of obedience from this day forward. 

Oh yes – Cindy and I used this as an excuse to call a lot of family and friends back home, because it is new to us and exciting… the local response, well no weed eaters or lawn mowers stopped, nobody else ran out in their yards.  So obviously the locals are in more control than we are!!!  so much for that deep spiritual lesson – grin.

Living an out of control life for the Glory of Jesus Christ in Guatemala and beyond, in His Name Amen.

Happy Thanksgiving friends and family:  In Christ, Dennis and Cindy McCutcheon

http://neic.usgs.gov/neis/last_event/world_el_salvador.html  a link for earthquake data. 

http://dennis51.smugmug.com/Guatemala/Mayan-Community-Fair/10438734_WqYtx#723887863_qBaQp  link to a few new photos of a rural Mayan community, with a medical clinic we have helped equip in Xocola.

Miałam wczoraj dziwny sen. O trzęsieniu ziemi i topieniu się jednocześnie w walącym budynku.Przeżyłam. Według sennika oznacza to, że coś się znaczenie zmieni w moim życiu (w negatywnym sensie) lub stanie się coś czego bym się nie spodziewała.Dziwne. Może powinnam kupić Lotto w takim razie?;) A tak na poważnie to troszeczkę się zaniepokoiłam tym snem.

Z innej beczki, myślę o projekcie “Rok w życiu”. Nie wiem czy mi to wyjdzie, ponieważ moja cierpliwość do pewnych rzeczy jest bardzo krucha, jednak może warto spróbować…?

Eu mesmo fiz esse vídeo com a música Earthquake do Little Boots que é muito boa! Eu e as minhas paquitas! rsrsrs

xOxO

Dig. Yes, dig. Dig deep and dig often.

This has been my 5^th visit to Armenia. In years past, I’ve been both a volunteer and a tourist: I’ve worked to renovate the school near the monastery at Tatev; I’ve met and stayed in an apartment in Yerevan with family friends; one year I was even tricked into being my friend’s engagement photographer (she told me we were coming to taste the fruits. Instead, for a month, I wound up living with her and her fiancé – of whose existence I knew nothing about until our plane’s tires hit the tarmac at Zvartnots. But that’s another story…). I considered myself a relatively seasoned veteran of traveling to Armenia. Well, to be fair, I was. The trouble is travelling to Armenia is a drastically different beast than living here. But, of course, that’s self evident. You want to hear the stories. I would too.

This year I spent three months in Gyumri, Armenia’s second largest city but with roughly 1/10^th of Yerevan’s population. It was here that I had the opportunity to make, I think, the following important observation and I hope it will be of some use to future volunteers: if you feel anything but violently ambivalent about this country, you’re doing something wrong. If you don’t come away having experienced heart wrenching pangs of both joy and sadness, then you have missed the point. If you are contented with taking things at face value or acquiring a superficial understanding of things, you will in all likelihood leave with an altogether…pleasant impression of Armenia.  But most volunteers will not do this.  Most volunteers, by the sheer fact that they have been attracted by such a loaded title as “birthright”, will be predisposed not to be contented with a simple veneer of their fatherland. Most volunteers will dig.

I dug.

I did most of my volunteering at a non-governmental anti-corruption center/ journalist’s club in Gyumri called “Asparez” (I also had a brief stint at Armenian Caritas, a NGO that, among other services, provided in-home care to needy individuals and families). My coworkers were primarily young women – Naira, Lena, Shoghik, Emma, Arina, and Arpineh – ranging from 18-25 years of age. As they say, “eshi drakht ei ungel” (see: “I was in hog heaven”). I didn’t do any field work this time around; my main gig was teaching English and translating various texts. But being at this hub of information, both political and social, digging around was pretty much part of the package. In this regard, I was extremely lucky.

I can tell you that if you dig, you will find out what a “domik” is, what it looks like, what it smells like, which legally blind man lives alone in a particular one in the “Barracks” district; you will find out that besides the legally blind man, 7,500 families still live in domiks; you will understand the true nature of hospitality; you will realize where the mistrust of government stems from; you will understand how an absolute stranger can plop her rosy cheeked baby down in your lap as you’re going to work in a marshrutka; you will know why your host grandfather’s eyes glaze over whenever he talks about anything circa 1988; you will find out you have a world class artist living in the building adjacent to yours(see Maral’s travelogue) and that his son, who also paints spectacularly, is also black belt in karate; you will uncover that nearly all marshrutka’s are privately owned by the mayor and drivers pay 2,000 AMD a day to rent them; you will realize that the youth are bored and disenchanted; you will understand why everyone knows everything about everyone; you will realize why people want to leave…and why they want to stay.

Of course, digging around in Gyumri requires sifting through a lot of rubble.  In most cases it’s psychological rubble.  I met my host uncle Moso the very first night I was there. Just to preempt any misconceptions, I’m 25 years old. Moso recently turned 24. Given the frequency with which I saw him (not to mention his antics) he was more like a host brother than an uncle. Oh, and he was deaf…which was an interesting surprise for my first night there…especially considering I wasn’t given so much as a warning (thanks mom…thanks). But we got on along swimmingly. He taught me Armenian sign language (I don’t know if he was kidding or not, but the sign for “Gyumri” is apparently to beat your chest with your fists…like a silverback gorilla, while the sign for Yerevan kind of looks like playing the world’s tiniest violin). He also spent hours entertaining me with stories, just about his every day life, but he would gesticulate like a madman. He could read lips and he could even sound a few words, having lost his hearing when he was three years old. That is…21 years ago. That is…in 1988. One night, about two months into my home stay, at around 12, he came over after visiting his fiancé’s house (he’s also apparently quite the lady killer) and we sat down for some coffee. I forget how I brought it up, but he started telling me about his experience in the earthquake. Apparently, he was standing outside his school when buildings began collapsing. His father had rushed over to him and snatched him up, just as his own school began crumbling in front of his eyes.  He didn’t hear after that.

Now, I can sing Birthright’s praises to the skies. I can tell you that, through the home stay experience, the excursions, the amiable and informed staff, Birthright truly allows one to have a deep and resounding experience here in Armenia; I could say it gives one the ability to dig and find things about the country, a city, a place, a person, even themselves that they would not have found out otherwise. I could say all this, but I’d sooner recommend that you find out for yourselves.

Aram Pirjanian
(Tujunga, CA, USA)

When compling the day in history post I don’t always include natural disasters but I did today because there were so many:

1343 A tsunami, caused by the earthquake in the Tyrrhenian Sea.

1703 The Great Storm of 1703, Britain’s biggest windstorm.

1759 An earthquake hit the Mediterranean destryoing Beirut and Damascus.

1833 A  massive undersea earthquake near Sumatra.

1839  A cyclone hit India.

1926 The deadliest November tornado outbreak in U.S. history.

1950 The “Storm of the Century“, struck the northeastern USA.

1987 Super Typhoon Nina pummeled the Philippines.

1996  An ice storm strikes the central U.S. killing 26 people.

2000  2000 Baku earthquake.

The Gravedodgers may well be sensible to delay the erection of their shade sails.

Archive.org has historic footage of a street car traveling down Market Street in San Francisco in 1905. The landscape was changed permanently after the earthquake and fires of 1906 which destroyed the area. This footage is from the Prelinger Archives, owned by the Library of Congress, Motion Picture, Broadcasting and Recorded Sound Division, and is part of its 4,000 title archive.

If you are looking for short term, temporary housing in the San Francisco area, Churchill has a large inventory of apartments with flexible terms and no fees.

A court in the southwestern Chinese city of Chengdu has convicted a veteran human rights activist on state secrets charges and sentenced him to jail for three years…. From VOA. Full story

This site may contain information about: virginia city. The blog is also related to: most populated cities.

A court in the southwestern Chinese city of Chengdu has convicted a veteran human rights activist on state secrets charges and sentenced him to jail for three years…. From VOA. Full story

This site may contain information about: china open. The blog is also related to: china store.

A video shot from a streetcar traveling down Market Street in San Francisco in 1905 before the earthquake/fire of 1906 destroyed the area.

Source:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NINOxRxze9k

Remember the great 1906 earthquake and fire that brought San Francisco to its knees? This is some awesome footage from a year before. I have a real interest in San Francisco’s past. From its earthquake then to the movie Bullitt with its famous car chase scene. It is rivaled for #1 to the city of New York City in terms of population density and its annual amount of cash flow by its citizens.

The world is going down the tube. Sin has become politically correct. People flock to religions which offer imaginary false gods, who will tolerate their sin, and deaden their conscience. No-one is immune, even me. There was a time when I would welcome all of this as a good thing, but I now have a problem. My spirit was brought to life by the living and true God, and the world now gives me a feeling of nausea, overlaid by a feeling of concern about inevitable doom of those not spiritually alive. Last rounds, ladies and gentlemen. it’s closing time.

All this time God screams at the world that it is fallen, and offers salvation in the death and resurrection of Jesus the Christ. The world is  not listening. Now many “acts of God” are needed to wake people up. How many floods, earthquakes, volcanic eruptions, epidemics, famines, and wars must happen to make people see? Or maybe these things are just warnings to be recognized only by the elect of God?

What should I do? I share the Gospel but no-one believes it. Some say they believe it but it is obvious that they do not. Is it possible to be born again and have no desire to read the Bible, worship God, fellowship with the brothers and sisters in Christ?

There are two options to take. Stop caring about the result and just minister to the lost in obedience but without really knowing what will happen. The other is better but harder to find. I need to know what God is doing, and join in His work. I need to join Him in His work, and not improve on mine. I need to listen to the silent voice of God.

I am going on a retreat sometime in December, in Tagaytay, a tranquil place near Metro-Manila, Philippines, next to Taal volcano. I need to discern God’s will. That means being disconnected from the internet, TV, radio, books, entertainment, and even Study Bibles. Just God, the Bible, and me, for 5 days, alone. I really do not know what will happen. I am scared that nothing will happen. I am also scared that something might happen. Since this scary feeling can only come from Satan I am resolved to proceed with this plan. I leave it all to God. I really do not know what to do. I really am unable to commit the stupid mistake of recommending a solution to God. Please pray for me that I hear the silent voice of God, and obey what He says.

I took a walk in the woods with my son and his friend. I talk about my plans for a retreat and other random stuff. Here it is. Enjoy! Be strong in the Lord, who is coming soon! After all, it is written…

Was that the silent voice of God just then? I wish I knew for sure…

God bless,

George

Marker Text:

Leonard Weeks settled here in 1658 on 33 acres of land which he left to his son Samuel, who built the house about 1710. The bricks were made on the premises. Hand hewn oak beams support the 18-inch thick walls, which were cracked by the earthquake of 1755. Occupied by the family over 250 years, it is considered the oldest native brick house in New Hampshire.

This Marker was erected in 1976 and is located on the north side of NH 33, about a half mile west of its junction with NH 151.

 Aerial view, marker location (1) and the Week’s House.

The story of the Weeks house is also the story of the settling of Greenland, NH.  A large tract of land here was originally given to  Capt. Francis Champernowne, British Nobleman between 1640 and 1644.  The original land grants for New Hampshire and Maine were given to Mason and Georges, repevtively and New Hampshire first settled by Thompson and Hilton and. Champernowne was a young boy at the time, but Georges married one of his relatives back in England, and was probably influenced by him to eventually come to New England. (Capt. Francis Champernowne: The Dutch conquest of Acadie p89.)

Champernowne was very loyal to King Charles I who was having some problems keeping his royal subjects in line.  There was a Civil War going on back in England. The two main factions were the Royalists that believed in the Divine Right of King’s, and the Parliamentarians that believed in a more representative Commonwealth – this included the Puritans, many of which were in early New England.

As a result, he was busy captaining a ship and harassing Massachusetts Bay colony trade in the Madeira Isles (off the coast of Portugal) for much of the 1640s.

In his absence he hired an agent to take care of his holdings.  Additional land grants were given to him as well, and the one in 1655 is the most important for this story:

“In 1655 the town made to him a further grant of three hundred and seventy-five acres of `marsh, meadow, and upland.` This grant was laid out in the same year, and was referred to in conveyances of land in Greenland for more than half a century as Champernowne’s "new farm."  …

He lived on his Greenland farm until the month of July, 1657, when he conveyed it to Valentine Hill, upon some agreement with Hill to satisfy a claim of Captain White, and for other considerations. Hill immediately conveyed the farm to Thomas Clarke and William Paddy, merchants of Boston.”

Capt. Francis Champernowne: The Dutch conquest of Acadie p109-111

And so he sold his land in 1657 and moved to Maine where he also had land that had been originally given to his father.  He died there in 1686.

Leonard Weeks originally came to New Hampshire around 1648 at the age of 15 on one of Champernowne’s ships, and worked the farm land for him.  In 1556 recieved his first land grant in Greenland.  Seems our new land owner liked to cuss as well, he was the first person in Greenland ever tried at the county court in Portsmouth in 1660, charged with:

"Swareing by god & Callinge John Hall of Greenland ould dogg & ould Slave &  that he would knocke him in the head: this is testifid by Thomas Peverley & Joseph Attkinson."

It cost him 10 shillings.  That’ll teach him!

He married and had eight children here, and expanded his land holdings further. Near the end of his days, he bequeathed his property to his second son Samuel Weeks and died a year later in 1707.

Samuel Weeks was a Captain of the Greenland militia, Selectman, and filled many other important city functions for Greenland.  He built the Weeks House around 1710…

…and this is what it looks like today (click to enlarge) November, 2009. It’s still a private residence.  He died in 1746 but left a beautiful and lasting representation of the early settlers of New Hampshire.  Visit the Weeks Brick House web site, and the Greenland Weeks Public Library for all your Greenland History needs.

The marker notes: “Hand hewn oak beams support the 18-inch thick walls, which were cracked by the earthquake of 1755.”  I can’t let a tidbit like this go by without checking into it.  The Massachusetts Historical Society has some information.

At about 4:30 in the morning on 18 November 1755, a strong earthquake rocked the New England area. Observers reported damage to chimneys, brick buildings, and stone walls in coastal communities from Portland, Maine to south of Boston, Massachusetts. Chimneys were also damaged as far away as Springfield, Massachusetts, and New Haven, Connecticut. The earthquake was felt at Halifax, Nova Scotia, to the northeast, Lake Champlain to the northwest, and Winyah, South Carolina to the southwest. The crew of ship in deep water about 70 leagues east of Boston thought it had run aground and only realized it had felt an earthquake when it arrived at Boston later that same day.

Find out here.

I’ve recently discovered Little Boots, one of the few (or only?!) synthpop artists with clean lyrics – plus she’s a little more “synth” and less “pop” .  She’s from the UK, so it’s very difficult to get her full album (yet), but you can get her earlier EP and watch the videos Earthquake and Remedy online.

For the past few months, I had considered creating a soundtrack for the book I’m writing, so when I heard she was doing a remix competition with a deadline in 1 month, I figured it was the perfect opportunity to take a month off of writing and try my hand at making music.

Now, a month later, the remix is complete. Huge thanks to my wife, Jessica, for being gracious while I threw countless morning, evening and weekend hours into this project – the first half of the month just learning the software (indescribably frustrating) – and the second half trying to teach myself the requisite music theory (I will read some music composition/theory before attempting this again) and actually write the music.

So without further ado, here is my remix: Earthquake – Unashamed Studios Mix (and of course I wouldn’t mind if you voted for it or commented on it )

Revisiting history when on Thursday Morning, April 29, 1965 at 7:28am, a 6.5 magnitude earthquake occured between Seattle and Tacoma. This earthquake was among the largest and most damaging earthquakes of the past 100 years in the Pacific Northwest. The quake was felt over nearly 200,000 square miles covering Washington, much of Oregon, Southwest British Columbia, and the Idaho panhandle.

My Account – The Setting:
I was in 8th grade at East Junior High School in Puyallup, Washington. I had just finished my last lap in a mile run at the track that was located near the east end of the large field east of the school buildings. Exhausted from my run, I huffed over to the bleachers at the edge of the track to sit and catch my breath.

Short Shockwaves:
Just as I was about to relax I heard the loudest noise I had ever heard. It sounded as if a dozen Boeing 707 jet engines were ignited with continuing thunderclaps imbedded in the din. Puyallup is in the Seattle flight line and I feared a jet was crashing near me. I looked around and was suprised to see nothing visible that should cause such a loud roar. Almost simultaneous with the noise, the ground was rapidly and violently shaking. I felt I should flee, but where? I just reasoned that the ground was going to crack open and I would get swallowed into the dirt so I began to run once again.

Medium Shockwaves:
Though still exhausted from the mile run, I was running, this time towards the school for I felt I would be safer there. The field I was on was several acres large, and the school was a long way away. I believed I was running for my life. I could not run straight because I was being buffeted back and forth by the rocking ground. It was a frantic run.

Longer Waves:
Still running, I witnessed the telephone poles rocking back and forth several yards away from me, and I observed waves underneath moving through the field I was on. The power and phone lines were swinging like jumpropes. The field was looking as if it was liquid; as if it was on top a wavy ocean. I could actually see the direction the waves were moving, west to east.

Quake’s End:
Soon I realized that the ground was not going to swallow me up, nor was I going to be called upon to rescue survivors from a catastrophic plane crash and I stopped my run. It was later documented that the quake lasted 45 seconds, but to me it felt as if it shook for minutes. The quake was the only focus of our conversations that day and for some time.

Aftermath:
The quake’s epicenter was near Des Moines, Washington, only 15 miles away. Four people lost their lives in Seattle, and there were a fair amount of injuries as a result of the quake. Damage was estimated at over $12 million.

Sources cited: SeismoArchives
1965 Puget Sound (USA) Earthquake Archive | HistoryLink.org