Tag Archives: History

Jocko … a Racist Icon or Deliverer of the Oppressed?


image of lawn jockey

image of lawn jockey, the Jocko style (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Most lawn jockeys today are white, but over 100 years ago most were black. There are two styles of lawn jockey, the Jocko (black) and the Cavalier Spirit (white). The Jocko is the lawn jockey that interests us now.

The jocko lawn jockey had exaggerated features; big eyes, flat nose, curly hair and large lips. The skin tone was often a gloss black and during the American Civil War, they were made of cast iron. Legend has it that the inspiration for the Jock lawn jockey goes back to an American Revolutionary War hero, under General George Washington, though no supporting evidence has been discovered yet.

Charles Blockson, the curator of the Afro-American Collection at Temple University in Philadelphia Pennsylvania, states the Jockos were used in the underground railroad during the civil war. He goes on to state that a green ribbon tied to the statue meant it was safe and a red ribbon meant it was not safe. Mr. Blockson says that many people who do not know the history of Jocko have feelings of humiliation and anger when they see the statue.

Many people discredit the Underground Railroad affiliation because red and green signals meaning stop/go or danger/safe were not standardized until World War One. If it were not for Judge Benjamin Piatt and his wife, I would have to agree.

Judge Piatt built a house in what is today West Liberty, Ohio; in Logan County. Judge Piatt was also the father of Don and Abram Piatt. The two brothers built the Piatt Castles (Mac-O-Chee and Mac-A-Cheek) after the civil war. The Castles are open for tours from spring to fall. Mrs. Piatt was an abolitionists and Benjamin Piatt a circuit judge. Due to the Fugitive Slave Act, the judge could not associate with his wife’s abolitionist work. Mrs. Piatt used their home as a station for runaway slaves going to Canada. When the judge was away Mrs. Piatt put a small American flag in Jocko’s hand to show it was safe. When the judge was home Mrs. Piatt removed the flag so the conductor and runaway slaves would know it was not safe to stop.

Being an officer of the court the judge had to enforce the Fugitive Slave Act and could not be aware of her activities. But of course the judge was no fool and was perfectly aware of his wife’s activities. To ensure he would remain ignorant of his wife’s activities he would always send a messenger to tell his wife when he was coming home.

You decide. Is Jocko an icon of racism or a deliverer of the oppressed?

In the future I will write more about the Piatt family and their wonderful castles.

English: Side of Mac-A-Cheek Castle, located o...

English: Side of Mac-A-Cheek Castle, located off State Route 245 east of West Liberty in Monroe Township, Logan County, , . Built in 1864, it and the nearby Mac-O-Chee Castle are operated as historic house museums. Under the name of “Abram S. Piatt House and Donn S. Piatt House”, the Piatt Castles are listed on the . (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

English: Front and side of Mac-O-Chee Castle, ...

English: Front and side of Mac-O-Chee Castle, located off State Route 245 east of West Liberty in Monroe Township, Logan County, , . Built in 1864, it and the nearby Mac-A-Cheek Castle are operated as historic house museums. Under the name of “Abram S. Piatt House and Donn S. Piatt House”, the Piatt Castles are listed on the . (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

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2012 in review — Thank You ! To all of my readers!


I don’t normally post this kind of information. I view this site as a Sunday morning conversation between us, and stats cannot possibly tell THAT story. So if you feel the same, don’t bother with this, but if you are curious WordPress did a really good job with this report. I want to take this opportunity to say Thank You to ALL of you. I hope in 2013 you follow your dreams and have a GREAT year.

The WordPress.com stats helper monkeys prepared a 2012 annual report for this blog.

Here’s an excerpt:

4,329 films were submitted to the 2012 Cannes Film Festival. This blog had 26,000 views in 2012. If each view were a film, this blog would power 6 Film Festivals

Click here to see the complete report.

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I Believe


I believe, and not just because I have a 7-year-old daughter. I have always believed, even when I was a 40-year-old man who thought I would never have children I believed. Why do I believe? To explain, I need to tell a brief history of Santa Claus, and of course, any history of Santa Claus begins with a brief history of St. Nicholas. My rule on my website is no politics or religion. However, as Saint Nicholas was a Christian Bishop it is part of who he was, and as such, it is part of his story. This article is a brief history of Saint Nicholas / Santa Claus and makes no judgments for or against Christianity in keeping with my rule.

Nicholas was born in present day Turkey to wealthy Greek parents. Orphaned while a small boy he was raised by his uncle Nicholas. Uncle Nicholas was the bishop of Patara. As he grew older, our Nicholas became a priest under his uncle’s tutelage. On his uncle’s death, Father Nicholas became Bishop Nicholas. Religious icons are almost as old as Christianity, and play a part in some of the legends of Saint Nicholas. In the early days of Christianity the majority of people could not read or write, (priests were the exception to this). Icons are religious images created according to strict rules. Each saint’s icon has specific items in the image that identify that particular saint. In the case of Saint Nicholas, he holds a book in his left hand and in his right hand, he holds three purses, or three gold coins, or three balls of gold.

The book is a gospel. Saint Nicholas is considered a defender of the faith. At the Council of Nicaea, the Roman Emperor called all the leaders of Christianity together in an attempt to “standardize” the religion. There were two main groups within Christianity. The first and smaller group (called Gnostics) believed Jesus was a prophet who was then killed, executed, and buried. They also believed that the way to heaven was through a secret knowledge (Gnosticism). By learning this secret knowledge, people earned their way into heaven. They were the authors of the Gnostic gospels, often referred to as the “forbidden books of the bible”. The second group (which Nicholas was a member of) believed that Jesus was the son of God and rose from the dead, they also believed that no one could earn their way into heaven. This second group believed that people went to heaven only through the grace of God, because of the sacrifice of Jesus on the cross.

By now you are asking “Ok, but what does all of this have to do with Saint Nicholas?” When the leader of the Gnostics stood before the Emperor making the case for his side at the Council of Nicaea, Bishop Nicholas calmly walked to the front of the gathering and slapped the Gnostic leader across the mouth, while he was addressing the Emperor. The other Gnostics demanded that Bishop Nicholas immediately be put to death for striking a person in the presence of the Emperor (this was a Roman law). Bishop Nicholas was well liked by all who knew him and he was generous to the poor. Also, Emperor Constantine is believed to have favored Nicholas’ side over the Gnostics. The Emperor decided that Bishop Nicholas would be stripped of all his Bishop’s attire and symbols of his rank, and placed in a cell for the night while the Emperor decided his fate.

In the morning, when the guards went to get Bishop Nicholas, his cell door was opened, all of his Bishop’s vestments were returned, and he was kneeling in prayer. Nicholas’ supporters claimed that Jesus had freed him and the Virgin Mary had returned all of his vestments to him. Emperor Constantine declared that was enough for him he would not go against Jesus and Mary. He restored Nicholas as a bishop. After this, all traces of Gnosticism were removed from the accepted cannon and Gnosticism was outlawed. It is for this reason that icons of Nicholas show him with a book (a gospel) in his right hand.

The three pieces of gold in his other hand are a testament to his generosity to the poor. There was a man who had three daughters, but no dowry. At this time, a woman without a dowry could not marry and would most likely become a prostitute because this would be the only way she would be able to support herself. Bishop Nicholas on hearing of this man and his three daughters provided the dowry for each of the daughters. When each daughter became of age, he secretly made his way to the house at night. He then left a bag of gold coins for the young woman’s dowry. When it was the youngest daughter’s turn, her father decided to hide and see who the anonymous benefactor was. Bishop Nicholas wanted to keep his identity secret, and so tossed the bag of coins down the chimney where they fell in a pair of stockings the daughter had hung over the fireplace to dry.

A myth surrounding Saint Nicholas has him bringing three boys back to life after a butcher had killed them. This story most probably comes from illiterate people mistaking the three gold balls in his hand (in the icon) for three heads. The three gold balls have also been mistaken for three oranges. This is why in Holland it is believed that Sinterklaas comes from Spain. In the time before North America was explored, oranges were imported from Spain to Holland.

Bishop Nicholas spent the rest of his life in service to the church and spent the fortune he inherited from his parents helping the poor, particularly children. During his life, children were considered of no value, and a parent or guardian could do with children as he liked (woman ranked above only children at this time). Bishop Nicholas died on 6 December 343. Traditionally a saint’s feast day is the anniversary of his/her death (the day they enter heaven). In celebration of the feast day of Saint Nicholas gifts are given to children to honor Saint Nicholas. Bishop Nicholas’ reputation as a giver of gifts is the source for our Santa Claus or Father Christmas.

Father Christmas goes back more than 500 years in England, over time he merged with Saint Nicholas into the figure we know today as Santa Claus. The first use of the name Santa Claus goes back to the American colonies in 1773. Santa Claus is also mentioned in Washington Irving’s 1809 History of New York. Santa Claus is an Americanization of the Dutch name for Saint Nicholas, Sinterklaas.

Santa Claus as we know him today has evolved over the last 200 year. In 1821, in the poem Santeclaus he was described as an old man on a reindeer sleigh. Next came the poem A Visit from Saint Nicholas (known today as Twas the Night Before Christmas or The Night Before Christmas). This poem was published anonymously on 23 December 1823. Today it is attributed to Clement Clarke Moore, though some claim it was written by Henry Livingston Jr. (books and articles have been written on which of these men actually wrote the poem).

A Visit from Saint Nicholas gave us much of what we know today about Santa Claus, but that is for next week.

Nederlands: Sinterklaas tijdens het Het Feest ...

Nederlands: Sinterklaas tijdens het Het Feest van Sinterklaas (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

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Skip to the Lou My Darling


I did something impulsive and silly last Sunday. I, a 50-year-old man, while walking down the wide center aisle of our local Target store, began skipping down the aisle. My daughter and I were there looking for supplies to create a Christmas cartoon. We were walking hand in hand when I just started skipping, and Elizabeth joined me. The two of us going back and forth:

“You’re copying me!”

“Nuh uh, you’re copying ME! I started skipping first,”

“Nuh uh, I did. I’m telling your Mama you were copying me when I take you back.”

“Nuh uh. I’m telling my mama you were copying ME.”

We found what we were looking for, paid for the purchase, and skipped out of the store, through the parking lot to our car; back and forth all the way about who was copying who. We received more than a few looks from other customers (and a few smiles). I hope that encourages some of those other people to do something spontaneous and silly too. I saw a sign once that said, “we don’t stop playing because we get old, we get old because we stop playing.” Maybe, and maybe that is why older parents seem younger than some of their peers. Or, maybe it is just because we have not been through those teenage years with our children yet. Who knows, but does “why” really matter.

This morning (Monday morning, while waiting for school to start) my daughter said to me, more of a statement than a question:

“I can’t tell anyone about yesterday, can I?” a small frown on her face.

“The skipping? Sure you can.”

Her principal was nearby; he was the first one she told. He pointed out that the security cameras probably caught us on tape. She smiled big at that thought.

There are several unrelated reasons why I am telling you about this. First, it put a smile on my daughters face and did not cost me a dime. She smiled when I started skipping, and when she joined me. She smiled when we skipped out of the store. She frowned a little when she said she shouldn’t tell anyone, but the smile came back in spades when I said she could, and even grew as she told her principal about our escapades from yesterday.

I also believe doing silly, unexpected things with people you love not only makes them smile (or should), but it strengthens the bond between you and them. I know it does for me. I can remember telling a story about my grandfather at his graveside. There were people, who did not appreciate me telling such a story at such a somber moment (I wrote about this in my e-book A Grandfather’s Legacy), but I saw a few smiles and it made me smile again. I think my grandfather understood my tears, but I also think he would have liked the smile that was there too. I hope that when my daughter stands at my graveside she remembers skipping through Target with her daddy when she was 7 years old. I hope that a little smile accompanies her tears as she remembers that moment.

We will all die one day, and some of you believe death is the end, there is no afterlife. I believe in an afterlife, you do not have too, but I do. Even if you do not believe in an afterlife, your influence does not stop at the grave. You still love the people you have lost, that does not end at the grave.

One of my favorite authors, Robert Fulghum, has this quote from the storytellers creed in a note to the reader at the beginning of his book ALL I REALLY NEED TO KNOW I LEARNED IN KINDERGARTEN.

“I believe that imagination is stronger than knowledge.

That myth is more potent than history.

That dreams are more powerful than facts.

That hope always triumphs over experience.

That laughter is the only cure for grief.

And I believe that love is stronger than death.”

Amen, Mr. Fulghum. I did not ask his permission to include that, but in this case I do not think he will mind (hey I’m not making money on it, and maybe some of you might check out his books too).

My daughter knows both of her great-grandfather’s. My Maternal grandfather died in 1977 and my paternal grandfather died in 1995. Elizabeth was not born until 2005, but she knows them both very well. She has seen their photographs, my maternal grandfather’s gold pocket watch, and the small table that sat in my grandparent’s house since before I was born (it now sits beside my bed). She also knows what my grandparents kept in each of this small table’s two drawers.

But those are just symbols of the man, something we can touch, something they touched. More important than the “things”, she knows their character. She knows you tell the truth and do the right thing, even if you have to pay a price, because it is good and right to do. She knows that my grandfathers did this and taught me to do this. She also knows some of their failings as men. No one is perfect. But, what she has learned from them, through me, is that when they made a mistake they did not let the mistake define them. Their mistakes did not become their new character, they apologized when it was called for, and held true to their integrity.

Elizabeth knows her great-grandfathers were great men (though neither of them would consider themselves great men). She has received a great gift from her relationship with them. Their gift to her is a knowledge of the greatness within herself, compassion for others, and permission to be an imperfect person. She knows that it is ok to try and fail, but we should never stop trying. She knows that when you tell the truth or do the right thing, you do that for yourself and the people who love you, as much as for other people. This is why it is important to do the right thing, even when no one is looking. She got all of that from two men that she will never be able to hold hands with, but she holds them in her heart.

When you see the influence these two men have had on my daughter, can anyone say they are dead? No, they will live in the heart of Elizabeth all the days of her life. So it is with those people around you, your friends, family, and people you will never be able to hold hands with. Do not doubt me; I know I am correct about this. You see your own faults, and sometimes that is all you see. Others see your gifts, strength, and heart as well. Even if I am wrong about you (and I am seldom wrong about people, a gift from my grandfather), you can do something about that. Tomorrow has not yet happened, and you decide who you will be tomorrow.

Next year will be a year of great opportunity for you. There will be trials, but learn from them and move on as quickly as possible. Thomas Edison said he did not fail at making a light bulb 1000 times, he just learned 1000 ways not to make a light bulb. I promise you (and I never make promises), whatever your new career is next year, you will become the success you were always meant to be long before you go through 1000 learning experiences.

Just do not forget to be silly once in a while along the way. It lightens your heart, puts a smile on your face, and makes memories for people you will never get to meet. Happy memories, memories that will make it possible for those people to go through their learning experiences and become the people they were born to become.

You are great and no one is insignificant. Be thankful in this season of thanksgiving, I am. I am thankful for my grandparents, my daughters, my friends, all those I love greatly (and the ones I do not love greatly), and I am most sincerely thankful for you and the time we spend together for a few minutes on Sundays.

Have a great week and thank you.

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The Fountain of Youth


Children are the most amazing people on earth. No matter how dire their circumstances, no matter how bleak their daily life, hope rises up in them like an indomitable wellspring. Even in the early 20th century, before child labor laws, this was true. We have seen the poor little rag-a-muffins in movies, dirty, poor, and running through the streets. Yet, they still found things to smile about, still full of hope. Real hope. Not the hope of an adult; a big house, a high-paying job, or nice clothes. The hope of a child is just the simple hope that this year the Brooklyn Dodgers will go all the way.

You remember the image, a group of boys facing a fence, looking through a knothole to watch their heroes “play ball.” Sometimes, they would make a human-pyramid to reach the knothole; with the boy on top yelling out a play-by-play, (I often wonder how many of those boys grew up to be radio sports announcers).

Ponce De Leon searched Florida for the fountain of youth, when all he really had to do was wait a few hundred years and see a baseball game. Baseball has that effect on men (and many women) young and old, rich and poor. Baseball takes us back to our youth, stick-ball in a big city street, sandlot ball in a small town, and sidestepping cow-patties on your way to first base in a cow pasture in the country.

When I was a kid, Palatka had one of those old ball stadiums; the big wooden ones with the over-hanging roof like the ones in Eight Men Out, A League of Their Own, and The Babe. Speaking of the Babe, Babe Ruth once played a game in our stadium, and I can remember standing at home plate with a bat looking up at those bleachers and thinking to myself, “The Babe once stood at this plate and looked at those bleachers.” Years later they tore down those bleachers of course, but in my memory I am still that little boy looking over my shoulder and I can still see the bleachers just as the Babe did.

My idea of a perfect Sunday afternoon was a freshly mowed yard, a lounge chair under a shade tree, and a ball game on the radio. When it was raining, I would watch the game on TV, turning off the sound, and listening to the game on the radio. Next to a baseball radio announcer, all other sports announcers are just amateurs. Life went on for me like that until about twenty years ago.

I turned my back on major league baseball, no games, TV, radio, hats, pennants … nothing for over twenty years. I still like minor league games. It gave me great pleasure to take my father-in-law to his first baseball game (the Columbus Clippers) when he came to the United States to visit us.

Why twenty years ago? That was the year the multi-millionaire players and the multi-millionaire owners robbed us of a world series because of their own greed. The millionaire players went on strike because they wanted more money, and the millionaire owners said no because they wanted to keep more money, it seemed obvious to me their own greed was more important to them than their fans. I guess they forgot that the reason they were so rich was because of those fans. Anyway, if they did not care about us, I did not care about them.

Life has been going on like that ever since. I have not thought one bit about those greedy so-and so’s, not until this week. This week I saw a newspaper on a break table. Below the fold was a heading that I just had to read. I read an article by Paul Elias and it re-sparked something in me, it is just a tiny spark; but, Paul has shined a light on a path for me. Maybe that path won’t lead anywhere, but maybe, just maybe, that path is my path to my fountain of youth.

What is the great revelation this associated press sports writer gave to me? The San Francisco Giants. When the Giants built their new stadium, the section of wall by the right-fielder is no wall at all. When the Giants are at home, about 75 fans can try to distract the opponents right-fielder while watching a game through a modern knothole … a chain-length fence. During the season, you can usually watch the whole game free of charge. When there is a crowd (like during the World Series) the security guards rotate the fans every three innings so a new group of fans get a chance at the “knothole.” These fans don’t go home though. When their time at the fence is over they stand back behind on the promenade while the fans at the fence shout out the play-by-play to them, just like when they were kids. Before you rush down to your nearest major league ballpark, the Giants are the only team in baseball to intentionally create a “knothole” in their stadium wall.

This is not a free-for-all though; the knothole fans have rules; no chairs, dogs (I think the mean the four-legged kind not the ones on a bun) or drinking, and definitely no saving places for people … only the people who stand in the line get a chance at the fence. Some fans show up twelve hours early to stand in line, the knothole fans police themselves. When you look at the cost of a ticket, and “a dog, and a beer” at a ball game (not to mention all the other things) some people would say that the Giants are losing tens of thousands of dollars every game by letting free-loaders watch the game for free. Even without a hot dog and a beer the cost is high, and besides how can you watch a baseball game at the park without a hotdog and a beer (or pop if you prefer), I think it is actually a law written down somewhere. As a matter of fact, I think with the high cost of a ticket, the first dog and beer should be included with the price of admission … but back to our discussion.

I do not think the Giants are losing any money. Paul interviewed Tony who drove up from Sacramento with his two sons and their three friends. Tony said he could afford one ticket, but no way could he afford three or six tickets. The knothole fans are knothole fans because they cannot afford the price of a ticket. I think this is something that actually will PAY the Giants. Some of these kids will grow up to become men who can afford the price of a ticket. Those men will pay to go to a Giants’ game and remember with nostalgia the days when they were little kids watching the Giants with dad as one of the “knothole” fans.

More important, the Giants have brought back some of the magic of baseball; once again baseball fans young and old, rich and poor, can watch their heroes if just for a few innings (well … at the Giants; stadium anyway). Who knows it may even bring back some of the fans who left baseball over the strike.

Oh, by the way, I am writing this while listening to the radio and it sounds like the Giants are one inning from going up 2 games to 0 in the World Series.

Have a great week and “Go Giants.”

Babe Ruth

Babe Ruth (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

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