Noshing on the Go - Part 2: Nutrition or Convenience, Pick One.

A Quick Recap

In my last post on this topic, I talked about how I've had success eating macro-balanced meals. I closed out the post by noting that my process went off the rails when I stepped out of my kitchen. This post digs into why that is.

The Challenge

Imagine I'm heading out to play tourist for the day in nearby Washington, DC. Sure, there will be food options in the area, but the choices are often limited. What can I grab that will give me the benefits of the macro-balanced meals I've been eating at home?

The first option is to grab what's easy in our pantry, say a ziplock baggie of peanut butter-filled pretzels. On the surface, this is not only a convenient choice but also seems to meet my macros. Pretzels are made from wheat, which is a solid carbohydrate source, and nuts have a reputation for being a good source of protein and fat. Alas, digging into the numbers shows that this food is nowhere near my macro goals.

My current macro targets are 30 g of protein, 46 g of carbs, and 11 g of fat per meal. One serving of delicious PB pretzels has 17 g of carbs, 5 g of protein, and 6 g of fat. If I tried to meet my protein goal with this food, I'd end up with 6 servings. That would way overshoot the other targets.

This is the classic conundrum for macro-based meal planning; hitting one nutrient often overshoots others.

Let's pause here and state the obvious: bringing PB pretzels as my on-the-go 'meal' is a fine choice. I'd almost certainly supplement it in the field with ice cream and French fries. But still, as a thought exercise, let's imagine that I wanted an option that did meet my macro goals. What then? For the record, I'm still eating the ice cream and fries; that's non-negotiable.

Hittin My Macros

Let's imagine three different meals that I could take with me that do meet my nutritional targets.

Style	Meal
Classic	Tuna sandwich with cheddar cheese. Ziplock baggie of Chex mix.
Backpacking	Minute Rice, tuna, dehydrated veggies, Moon Cheese, bouillon.
Field-assembly	Tuna packet, Moon Cheese, bagel.

These meals all 'work' the same way: tuna brings most of the protein. Cheese, either fresh or dehydrated, brings most of the fat and some additional protein. And bread, rice, or a bagel bring the carbs.

The Classic and Backpacking meals don't seem like much of a fit for my day in DC. The field-assembly could work, but it's not nearly as convenient as a bag of PB pretzels. Let's explore why that is.

Stageability, Portability, and Consumability

Why these meals do and don't work seems to come down to three properties: stageability, portability, and consumability.

Stageability is how easily the meal, or better yet, a number of meals can be staged. The PB pretzels are perfect for this. When I'm ready to head out, I simply grab a handful, and I'm done. The backpacking meal is equally as stageable, as the shelf stable ingredients are easy to preportion. The field-assembly is also quite stageable, though something like a bagel won't stay fresh forever.

The classic sandwich is the least stageable, as you have to make it fresh every time.

Next up is portability. Here, the PB pretzels continue to shine, as you can toss a ziplock bag of them into your pocket or backpack and you're done. Initially, the backpacking meal seems highly portable. After all, it's used for backpacking. But when you consider that you need to carry a container, spoon, and possibly an extra bottle of water, one can see that it's actually not especially portable. The field assembly meal scores well in this area, requiring that you only bring along a fork for eating the tuna. The classic sandwich again lags behind, as it calls for carrying a cooler and ice pack to keep it fresh-ish.

Portability can be sneaky. For example, what's left after the meal is done also impacts portability. This racks up strikes against both the backpacking and classic style meals. The former calls for you to either clean out, or carry around a dirty container, and the latter calls for you to continue to schlep a cooler and ice pack even though the food is now done.

Another way portability can come into play is the risk of shelf-stable food, like chocolate, melting. A seemingly highly portable Clif Builder Bar becomes a sloppy mess once it's been sitting in a hot backpack or car for too long.

The last criterion is consumability. Finally, the classic sandwich shines. Take it out, eat it and you're done. The PB pretzels are still more consumable, as they have the ability to snack on a few at a time, say while moving from one monument or museum to another. The field-assembly meal isn't as convenient as the classic sandwich to eat, but if you're stopping for a sit-down meal and have a flat surface to use, it's easy enough to put together.

It's the backpacking-style meal here that lags in this category. It calls for both sufficient water and soak time before the meal can be eaten. With planning, much of this can be mitigated: you could start the soaking process before heading into a museum, and the food could be ready by the time you're done looking at the exhibits. So the backpacking meal isn't a total deal breaker.

And the winner is: there is no winner.

Thinking through each of these meal styles, one can see how each brings some advantages. PB pretzels are stageable, portable, and consumable, yet they don't hit my nutrition goals. The other meal options hit the nutrition goals, but none hit that ideal combination of stageable, portable, and consumable.

I finished this thought exercise with no clear solution. And then I remembered this video by FandabiDozi and I thought: hmmm, maybe he's on to something? Let's explore why in the next post.

Noshing on the Go - Part 1: Experimenting with Macros

I love a good nutrition-based self-experiment. Sure, most of them turn out like my spirulina trial: superfood promises followed by awful taste and zero noticeable impact on my health. But still, every once in a while, I find a winner, and I always learn something along the way (like: Lord help us if spirulina is the food of the future).

My most recent food-based experiment has been to strive to eat 5 macro-balanced meals a day. Macro, in this context, refers to the macronutrients protein, carbohydrates, and fat. The idea is that each of these components plays an important role in the body, so having a sufficient quantity of each is optimal. Sounds promising, right? These experiments always do.

There are a number of strategies for determining your macro targets, and I opted to go with the relatively simple ratio approach. Given my total caloric intake, I designated 30% protein, 45% carbs, and 25% fat.

Knowing my overall calorie goal of 2050 kcal, and a bit of simple math, allowed me to come up with both daily and meal-based goals in grams:

Component	Percent	Calories	Calories / Gram	Grams / Day	Meals / Day	Grams / Meal
Protein	30%	615 kcal	4 kcal/g	153 g	5	30 g
Carbohydrates	45%	923 kcal	4 kcal/g	230 g	5	46 g
Fat	25%	513 kcal	9 kcal/g	57 g	5	11 g

The above math says that in a given day, I'm shooting to eat 153 grams of protein, 230 grams of carbs, and 57 grams of fat.

I found the last column, however, to be a game-changer. Trying to consume, say, 57 g of fat in a day was a maddening puzzle to figure out. But, 11 g in a single meal was straightforward. It also means that if when I eat a non-optimal meal (which happens all the time), I can pick back up with optimal ones without missing a beat.

For a week, I struggled to find five meals a day that hit these targets. The challenge was that my go-to foods weren't anywhere near these ratios. Fortunately, I work from home and have access to a full kitchen, so had plenty of opportunities to get creative. I was already in the habit of using Cronometer App to track calories, so using it to track macros was an easy habit to adopt.

To my surprise, the annoyance of assembling meals was offset by how effective the meals themselves were. By effective, I mean they left me feeling energized and full until the next meal. It wasn't just Internet promises; I felt like I could actually feel a difference. I'm sure some of this was the placebo effect, but at the end of the week I felt more than motivated enough to push on.

According to basic nutrition science, none of what I felt was a surprise: carbs are a primary fuel for the body and fat and protein both play important roles in making you feel full. I'd just proven out what's considered nutrition 101.

While this approach worked well when I had access to a full kitchen, I noticed that it fell apart the minute I was eating on the go. I'm not referring here to eating out, per se, as in this context you have far less control of your options. I'm talking about traveling, sightseeing, or even running a few back-to-back errands. In this context, I can bring any food I want with me, and yet, it wasn't obvious what to grab.

Of course, this doesn't really matter. First of all, life is too short and the body is too sophisticated to be a slave to macros. And second of all, one's macros aren't static. If I'm out for a day of hiking, then trying to consume the same nutrition as I do for a day in front of a screen would be ridiculous.

Still, as a problem solver at heart, I couldn't resist thinking about how I might solve this macros-on-the-go food challenge. Let's dig into that in our next post!

Bonus: A Backcountry Case for Macros

While preparing this post, I came across this podcast episode talking about backcountry nutrition planning, specifically for multi-day hunting trips. In the world of backpacking, food is: (1) considered a heavy resource, and (2) there's often an emphasis on choosing fat over other macronutrients because fat provides over double the amount of energy (kcal) when compared to carbs and protein.

For example, 100 grams of jelly beans provide you with 375 kcals of energy. That sounds pretty good. That is, until you consider that for the same weight, 100 grams of olive oil provides you with 884 kcals. In this context, jelly beans are 'heavy' and olive oil is 'light' (learn way more on this topic, here), and you're a fool for not bringing anything but a flask of olive oil on your next trip.

The guest on the podcast, Kyle Kamp, steps back from this fat-is-king mindset and instead focuses on—you guessed it—balancing your macros. One of his key points is that each macronutrient has an essential job, and focusing only on total calories can result in deficits you can feel on the trail.

To build on our example, protein is critical for muscle repair and recovery. If you get to the end of a hard day of hiking and only have olive oil on hand, then you have no protein source to meet this need. You're going to suffer.

It's a fascinating discussion that puts macros front and center. Give it a listen.

The Yellow Duck Effect

We're on day 6 of an 8-day cruise through the Caribbean, and we've managed to wander into a previously undiscovered part of the ship. It's a small arcade where we pass the time by playing a handful of games.

As we are leaving, I notice a claw machine in the corner filled with rubber duckies. Unlike most claw machines, this one is designed so everyone is a winner. You scan your key card to deduct a dollar from your account and get as many attempts as you need to pull out a duck.

M and P went first, each pulling out souvenir duckies. Before I started my turn, I made a pronouncement: given the variety of ducks in the machine, my goal was to make sure I didn't pull out a plain yellow duck. A ninja, baseball, or two-toned duck would all be fine. Just not the vanilla version.

Given the variety of ducks in the machine, this wasn't a hard ask.

I scanned my stateroom card, and the machine came to life. As I tried to position the claw to pick up an interesting specimen, my turn timed out and the claw dropped. You guessed it; it snagged a yellow duck.

I found myself annoyed: how could I snag defeat from the jaws of victory? The game was rigged in my favor, and yet I'd lost. I briefly thought about going back for another, but that seemed wrong; the universe had spoken. I left the arcade (very) mildly annoyed. Thankfully, on a cruise there's always cake around to take my mind off such matters.

The next day, I had a realization: maybe the yellow duck's lack of pizzazz was a feature. Unlike many colored ducks, the basic yellow could serve as a canvas for a Sharpie. In short, a yellow duck was perfect for adding my own customizations. Now I was excited!

Chilling in the observation lounge, I polled our group on what phrases I could add to my previously unloved mallard. They needed to be terse enough to fit, yet meaningful enough to capture our adventure.

After narrowing down the list, we arrived at the following:

Oh, how I love my little yellow ducky; I wouldn't trade it for the most exotic of faux creatures.

I've tried to take this experience to heart. When I get exactly the outcome I was avoiding, I try to delay my dissatisfaction. Give it time; perhaps I've pulled a Yellow Duck.

You might be thinking: wait, that's just looking on the bright side. Not quite. There's nothing active about the Yellow Duck Effect. You don't do anything. You just suspend disappointment and wait. The universe will take care of the rest.

That's My Nephew! Ethan Orates, Graduates and Celebrates

I'm composing this as a very proud uncle. Last week we celebrated as our nephew Ethan graduated from the University of Maryland. He didn't just graduate with a degree in public policy, and minors in Law and Society and Geographic Information Science, he was elected to give the undergraduate student address at the Public Policy School's graduation.

You can watch him give his speech below. I'd say he knocked it out of the park. Shira and I couldn't have been more impressed.

We also cheered him on at the main commencement ceremony. The university made the, let's call it, bold decision to have Kermit the Frog as their main speaker. Yes, you read that right: the plan was to have a puppet address a football stadium full of grads, families and friends. Jim Henson was a UMD graduate, so a love for Kermit runs deep in the school.

I personally had my doubts that this was a wise decision. But, to Kermit and the school administrator's credit, it totally worked. Here's what we saw as Kermit gave his speech:

With Kermit's spot on voice, gesticulations and outfit, as well as our inability to see the puppeteer, the immersive experience truly held. Here's the stadium singing Rainbow Connection. You can see at the end, even my Dad was singing along.

We closed out the festivities on Sunday with a graduation party in the park. We ate cake, savored seeing family and friends and even had a little 2 on 2 basketball with my brothers and Ethan. I'm proud to say that nobody left the game with anything torn or sprained, so that was a nice bonus.

Ethan, we're so impressed with your accomplishments and are excited to cheer you on as you start your next chapter. As a wise frog once said, life's like a movie. write your own ending.

A Triple Crown Attempt and the YouTube API - Making Great Content Easier to Watch

Stella, of @StellaHikes, is attempting to complete a US long-distance hiking Calendar Year Triple Crown. That is, she's trying to hike the AT, PCT, and CDT--7,875 miles of trail--in one year. And she's bringing us along for the ride on her YouTube channel.

I'm only on day 8 of her attempt, but I'm really enjoying her video-a-day format. Stella's superpower is her honesty: she's willing to give us a behind-the-scenes look at her undertaking, warts and all.

The countless challenges she is facing on this adventure are classic. She needs to push for miles, but she also needs to give her body rest to avoid injury. She needs to carry as little as possible, but she also needs to have the gear to stay warm and the food to stay fueled. She needs to stay focused on the trail, but she also needs to capture and share her effort online. And the list goes on.

There are plenty of videos on the web that talk about how to solve these challenges. But in Stella's case, we get something far more rare: we learn by her example. She's showing, not telling, and to me that makes her video stream not just entertaining, but also an immensely valuable learning tool.

Easy to Enjoy, Hard to Watch

So I'm in! As long as Stella is on the trail, I want to follow along. Unfortunately, YouTube is far from the ideal platform for watching episodic content like Stella's daily videos.

For one thing, YouTube prioritizes new content, so it's pushing me to watch Day 65 when I'm still on Day 8.

And related to this, navigating YouTube to get to Day 8 is a minefield of distractions. On my way there, it's easy to get sucked into any number of other videos.

Ideally, YouTube would recognize that content like this is best consumed not as a traditional channel, but as a podcast. Podcast Addict, for example, seamlessly resumes where I left off, and is set up for distraction-free access. Whether I consume a podcast in days, months, or years, Podcast Addict will patiently queue up future content and wait for me to consume it at my own pace.

A bit of Googling turned up Podsync, an open-source platform for podcastifying YouTube content. Perfect, right? Unfortunately, tools like Podsync rely on extracting raw video from YouTube, before processing it and republishing it as a podcast. This is against YouTube's policies and not officially supported. Even if I could get Podsync running, it would remain a fragile solution that could stop working at any time.

An API, DIY Solution

All hope isn't lost. Using YouTube's API, I was able to rig up my own version of a watch queue that offers distraction-free access. Here's how I did it.

First, I created a new playlist called StellaHikes CYTC Watch Queue. I added the current video I was watching; Day 5 at the time.

Next, using youtubeassist (introduced here), I figured out Stella's uploads playlist.

$ youtubeassist -a channel -n StellaHikes -v |
  jq -r '.items[] |
  .contentDetails.relatedPlaylists.uploads'
UU_xoSErGgqXfYzpTFE1JDbg

The 'uploads' playlist is a bit of magic on YouTube. On one hand, it's a playlist like any other, so you can view it in the standard playlist player. On the other hand, it can't be manually maintained. YouTube automatically adds to it when a user uploads a video to their channel. While I have plenty to quibble about with YouTube, this implementation is pretty genius.

Next, I added a new option to youtubeassist: -a playlist-populate. This option grabs videos from a source playlist and adds them to a destination playlist. The command tries to be smart, taking the newest video in the destination playlist as a reference point. Only videos that are newer than this in the source playlist will be added.

This bit of logic ensures that new videos on @StellaHikes will be added to my watch queue, while those that I've already watched will be skipped.

Every so often I run this command to pull in more videos from Stella's channel to my watch queue:

$ youtubeassist -a playlist-populate -s UU_xoSErGgqXfYzpTFE1JDbg -d PLBuxEPZOHHKYytW39ZPXDRR6fan7ygCL9
UExCdXhFUFpPSEhLWXl0VzM5WlBYRFJSNmZhbjd5Z0NMOS42MjYzMTMyQjA0QURCN0JF|I wanted breakfast so bad! AT Day 66 CYTC
UExCdXhFUFpPSEhLWXl0VzM5WlBYRFJSNmZhbjd5Z0NMOS40MDNEMzA0QTBFRThFMzBE|Big climb in Massachusetts! AT Day 65 CYTC
UExCdXhFUFpPSEhLWXl0VzM5WlBYRFJSNmZhbjd5Z0NMOS42RTNCOEMxREI3Q0VDMjU2|It happened suddenly ⛈️ AT Day 64 CYTC

I've now solved half the dilemma: I have a playlist with the next video to watch at the top and new videos auto-added below.

This leaves the question of how to avoid distraction within YouTube. To address this, I visited the watch queue playlist in Chrome on my mobile phone:

Clicking on the three dots menu, I selected Add to Home Screen.

This put an icon on my phone's home screen that, when clicked, will launch YouTube's playlist viewer. At the top will be the video I'm currently watching.

This isn't as streamlined as a proper podcasting app, but it gives me a temptation-free way to jump right to where I left off watching.

Now all I have to do is sit back, watch, and root for Stella. C'mon girl, 136 miles down, 7,739 more miles to go! You got this!

G's Baltimore Adventure - Choo Choo! - Visiting the B & O Railroad Museum

[Composed 9/21/2024]

After a morning on the water, we made our way in-land to the B&O Railroad Museum. Between memories of admiring freight trains passing behind my grandparent's home in Chicago to a crude, but beloved model train setup in our basement when I was a kid, I've got more than a soft spot for trains. Fortunately, G shares the same love.

We visited the museum in the afternoon and didn't have a ton of time. But still, we climbed aboard and 'drove' every train we could. We marveled at engines of every size and time period, from decorative horse drawn affairs to towering diesel-electric monsters.

Touring the #C-2222 Bobber Caboose, aka, a little red caboose was a special treat. Inside we found a tiny house on wheels, serving as the crew's bathroom, bedroom, kitchen and office. G climbed up to the elevated bench seats and for the 1000th time that day, announced 'all aboard!' He's a natural! The little space was a study in efficiency and functionality.

Stepping into a C&O #725 Pullman passenger car, once lauded as "the most luxurious coach type cars that have ever been operated on the railroad," we were met with a most impressive sight: an HO scale model of the first B&O mainline. You can get a preview of model in action here. We loved admiring the details of the model, from the paths the different trains took, to the little vignettes of life along the tracks.

The grounds of the museum are so large, that we barely had time to put our eyes on most of the collection. In what felt like no time, the museum's 4pm closing time was upon us and we had to call it a day.

I'm definitely ready to go back and explore the museum in more detail. Next time I go, I'll have the museum's searchable catalog queued up on my phone, ready to go. I've been impressed that with just a few details, I'm able to pull up a whole story about an item in the museum's collection.

For example, consider this photo of us in front of this epic yellow engine:

Searching for 490 in the museum's catalog quickly brought me to this page, describing the C&O #490 Hudson. Despite its new age look, this bad boy is a steam engine built in 1926! It hauled passenger trains until 1953. So cool.

I'm pretty sure Shira's not going to have the patience for this level of Train Geekery, but a guy can dream.

Leaving the museum we headed back to DC where we dropped off a very, very tired G to his parents. We'd had an amazing adventure these last two days. I'm not quite sure how we're going to top this, but we're certainly going to try!

G's Baltimore Adventure - The USS Constellation

[Composed 9/21/2024]

After touring the US Coast Guard Cutter 37 we headed to our final ship of the day: the USS Constellation. Since we arrived in Baltimore we had been referring to this vessel as the 'pirate ship' because its towering masts looked the part.

While winding our way through an exhibition on the way to boarding I learned that the Constellation is so much cooler than a pirate ship: it was, among other roles, an Anti-Slaver. For its early mission in the 1850's it served as the Flag Ship for the African Squadron and helped enforce anti-slave trade laws.

But wait, you might ask, wasn't slavery still legal in the US at this time? It was. There's clearly a duality going on with this mission. On one hand, it feels modern and progressive, with the US providing resources to fight the scourge of slavery half-way around the world; doing so with an integrated crew. This 1844 report from the US Navy underscores this perspective:

The operations of the [Africa] squadron have, it is believed, exercised a favorable influence in preventing the slave trade. With the provision of our law denouncing it as piracy, and the presence of our own Naval forces, with authority to visit all vessels under the American flag, it is not probable that our citizens will engage in this disgraceful and perilous traffic, or our flag, be used by others to any great extent.

If other Christian nations would inflict the same punishment on the offenders, it is not improbable that the trade would cease.

On the other hand, you had figures like Commodore Issac Mayo who commanded the African Squadron for a time and who himself was an enslaver. While he was off rescuing captured individuals he was making headlines at home for individuals trying to escape his capture.

The USS Constellation's anti-slavery duties ended when it was recalled as part of the Civil War.

Once we boarded the Constellation, we perused the upper deck, known as the spar deck. At the front of the ship we found a ranger talking about, and preparing to fire, the ship's forward Parrott rifle (alas, named for Mr. Parrott, not the bird). G, I think fearing a loud explosion, wanted nothing to do with this demonstration. So we put some distance between the ranger and ourselves.

We wandered the spar deck and admired the masts, endless lines, and other cool sailing features. Of course, we took turns 'driving' the ship by putting our hands on the ship's wheel, or as it's properly known, the helm.

The helm underscores a common theme of the USS Constellation: simplicity. The helm looks impressive, but it's little more than a wheel connected to the ship's tiller by a rope. The tiller is then connected to the rudder, which steers the vessel. This tiller and rudder arrangement is the same configuration I used to steer my tiny Sunfish sailboat when earning my Sailing Merit Badge in the 1990's.

To further emphasize the simplicity of this setup, if the helm gets damaged it's possible to send sailors below to the tiller room, where steering can be done directly.

From the Spar deck we made our way down a level to the Gun deck. Here we found an impressive array of canon, all seemingly ready to bombard Baltimore's inner harbor. From what I can tell, the impressive looking fire power was one of USS Constellation's most important assets. With it, it could camouflage the fact that she was a sail only vessel built at a time when her competition didn't solely rely on wind. This put her at an almost comical disadvantage to modern enemy ships.

Her attempt to run down a Confederate ship in 1864 proves the point succinctly:

On Dec. 19, 1864, as the Union warship sailed north, a blockade runner was sighted. Stellwagen gave chase. The quarry, however, realizing that its pursuer lacked steam power, engaged its engines and escaped to windward.

Was the public outraged that their their tax dollars were spent to build an inferior relic? It's seems they were not; they saw all those glorious guns and cheered the effort on.

The Western Democrat, Charlotte, NC, September 15, 1854:
The new sloop-of-war Constellation is capable of throwing a greater weight of metal than her namesake the frigate, and is somewhat larger in her dimensions. She is one hundred and seventy six feet between perpendiculars ; beam, forty-one ; hold to gundeck, twenty-one ; length on the load line, one hundred and seventy. The new ship his been built with a spar deck, on which she will mount two ten inch, pivot guns ; on the gun deck she will carry twenty guns, sixteen ; sixty-eightpounders, and four long thirtv-pouuders, which will make her a very formidable man-of war.

Grand River Times, Grad Haven, Michigan, October 11, 1854 A Peace Maker. The Constellation a new sloop of war, of 1,400 tons and 201 feet in length is to be launched at Portsmouth on the 25th inst. This vessel we learn from the Globe, presents to the eye a structure of strength and capacity scarcely equalled in our navy by any vessel below a first class frigate. On her gun deck she has twenty-four ports, but will only mount twenty guns, 16 of 68 pounders and 4 long 32 pounders. On her spar deck forward and aft, she will mount 2 ten-shell guns on pivots, carrying a ball weighing 120 pounds. Her spars will be about the same as a second class frigate, her main yard being 90 feet in length.
This vessel, the Globe thinks, will bo the model sloop-of-war of the world.

Then, as now, appearance goes a long a way.

However, before you write off the Constellation as a bureaucratic fiasco, you do need to appreciate that the old school sail-only tech wasn't without advantages.

Then as now, the navy consider's a ship's endurance, that is: "the minimum amount of burnable fuel the ship must carry." With wind power only, the USS Constellation had nearly unlimited endurance, which made it ideal for long distance missions.

So what do you do with a vessel that mainly looks tough and can travel long distances without breaking a sweat? You deploy them overseas in diplomatic roles. Which is exactly what they did with the Constellation. Even after she was recalled to mainland for the Civil War, she was again sent out to the Mediterranean Sea to "protect US interests." What a clever use for a ship who's strengths could be affectionately considered unique.

From the guns we made our way forward to the captain's quarters. The USS Constellation may have wildly different construction and tech (or lack there of) from the sub and cutter we toured earlier, but some elements remain unchanged. One is that the captain's space will always be the most luxurious. Here too we find this to be the case. Our favorite feature of the captain's quarter's: he has not one, but two bathrooms for his use. And by bathroom, I mean a seat he can sit on with an opening to the sea below. Now that's luxury!

From the Gun deck, we descended another level to the berth deck.

The berth deck is where the sailors live, and everything about it underscore's the simplicity of the Constellation's design. With hammocks hung in place, it becomes the sleeping quarters. With hammocks stowed, and picnic blankets (not the historically accurate term, but essentially the same thing) spread out, it becomes a mess hall. With picnic blankets stashed away, it becomes a rec room.

The curators of the ship gave us a taste of this setup, with a few hammocks hung up and a tarp spread out with some dinner ware on top. We asked, and sure enough, they encouraged us to climb into the hammocks and give them a try. G and I gladly obliged. It wasn't half bad, swinging there for a few moments without a care in the world.

And yet, when you consider the reality of life aboard a ship, that care free image quickly evaporates. With approximately 220 sailors on board, those hammocks must have been packed together like sardines. The low ceilings meant that one could barely stand, and lack of seating meant that sitting wasn't especially comfortable either. Natural light is limited, and the only artificial light available was by flame; a scary proposition considering you're floating on a wooden vessel draped in canvas. There are three toilets available on the entire ship, two of which were in the captains suite for his use. In short, these sailors had it rough.

Finally, we descended to the final deck, the Hold. Here G's height became a true asset, as I found myself nearly having to crawl to avoid hitting my head. The Hold was the ship's storage area. It's also here that you can see the oldest parts of the ship, much of which goes back to its 1854 launching.

Given the long distance missions that the Constellation undertook, the Hold, with it's life supporting supplies, would have been a critical feature of the ship. I couldn't find any specifics on how long the Constellation went without resupply, but I did find this 1846 record of the USS Yorktown making the journey from its Africa Squadron base back to the Boston area. The Yorktown, like the Constellation was a sloop of war, though, she was smaller and had nearly half the number of crew aboard. Still, it took her 27 days to cross the Atlantic.

That's weeks of nothing but featureless blue. The captain would benefit from modern (for the time period) navigation tech that would make the crossing relatively safe and predictable. But still, all that separated the crew from starvation was the supplies in the Hold.

Again, that's a hard pass for experiences I'd like to endure.

Speaking of supplies, another notable mission the Constellation undertook was in March of 1880, when the ship's guns and ballast were removed and replaced by 2,500 barrels of potatoes and flour. The was part of a effort to deliver relief to victims of the Ireland's 1880 famine.

This mission echoed one conducted by the USS Jamestown in 1847. The Jamestown, also a sloop of war, delivered relief supplies for the Irish Famine of that era. This is considered the first instance of any nation delivering humanitarian aid to another.

Prior to 1847, the bulk of interaction between nation-states consisted mainly of warfare and other hostilities, mixed with occasional trade; the entire concept of international charity existed neither in the moral consciousness nor as part of the political strategy of monarchs or elected leaders. If anything, such a gesture toward a foreign nation would likely have been viewed as a sign of weakness.
.. More than 5,000 ships left Ireland during the great potato famine in the late 1840s, transporting the starving and the destitute away from their stricken homeland. The first vessel to sail in the other direction, to help the millions unable to escape, was the USS Jamestown, a converted warship, which left Boston in March 1847 loaded with precious food for Ireland.

Between rescuing those destined for bondage, and following in the footsteps of delivering food, not bombs, the USS Constellation sure knew how to do a Mitzvah. I left the ship with a surprising sense of pride. The USS Constellation represents not just a legacy of seamanship, but of finding innovative ways to make the world a better place.

Waving goodbye to the USS Constellation we made our way to a pizza lunch and then back to the hotel so G and I could both take naps. As mornings go, this one had been perfect!

Inspiration and Innovation for Peace - A Lesson from B'nei Brak

Chag Sameach and Happy Passover! We had two wonderful seders (Thanks David and Maryn for hosting the first night!). For my seder prep, I came across a fresh perspective on one of the stories within the Haggadah. In the interest of learning something new every year, I'm sharing it below. Enjoy!

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Within the Haggadah's retelling of the late night study of the five rabbis, it's not unusual to pick up on the location of the story as a key element. The Velveteen Rabbi explains:

What were these rabbis doing in B’nei Brak, which was the hometown of Rabbi Akiva only? Why didn’t their students join them in celebrating the seder? Why didn’t the rabbis themselves notice the rising of the sun?

Context is everything. This story takes place during the rule of the Roman emperor Hadrian, who ordered that the Temple be moved so he could put a temple to Jupiter on the Temple Mount. In the year 123 of the Common Era, a guerilla insurgency began, which resulted in a crack-down by the Roman authorities.

B’nei Brak was the headquarters of the rebellion against Roman occupation, a rebellion of which Rabbi Akiva was a leader. Because of rebel activities, the Roman authorities had forbidden gatherings of Jews. The seder described in this passage was a chance not only to discuss the liberation from Egypt—but also to plan a strategy of resistance against Roman occupation. The students were standing guard, ready to caution the rabbis to disband at daybreak, lest they be caught.

This tale may be read as an encouragement to become so joyfully immersed in the seder that we don’t notice the passing of time…and it may also be read as a story of how one liberation begets another. Celebrating our freedom from servitude can be a radical act. It was Rabbi Akiva, after all, who famously answered the query, “Which is better, study or action?” with the response, “Study—if it leads to action.”

I recently discovered a new link to B'nei Brak, but to appreciate it, we need to step back in time. In the span of Jewish history, however, we're going back a mere 185 years; practically yesterday.

The date is Thursday, June 11th, 1840, and the place is Staunton, Virginia. Residents opened their copies of the Staunton Spectator, and General Advertiser to read of a gruesome murder that took place 6,000 miles away in Damascus, Syria. The murder is so violent that the newspaper didn't want to believe the account.

Some weeks ago we received the announcement of the murder of a Christian missionary and his servant at Damascus, but the details were so horrible that we refrained from giving publicity to them, and hoped they could only have been the invention of a disordered imagination inventing a tail too frightful to be believed. However, the following letter proves that the tale was too true.

The article describes in detail how Father Thomas was restrained, his throat slit, his body hung upside down and his blood drained. His body was then dismembered and his bones disposed of in the sewer.

The bones were discovered and those who perpetrated the crime ultimately confessed. Their motive came down to a religious obligation:

They all said that they were incapable of committing murder, but that they had acted up to the precepts of their religion, in which it is prescribed to make their Easter leavened bread with Christian blood.

Readers in New York City who picked up their May 18th, 1840 copy of the Morning Herald read about the same incident but from a dramatically different perspective. Yes, there was a missing Christian leader in Damascus. However, claims that Jews murdered him were extracted by torture. And the bones that served as evidence in the case were anything but:

Official accounts from Beyroot, of the 15th March, rectify the details of the Smyrna journals, published in our paper [the Austrian Observer] of yesterday, respecting the pretended murder of Father Thomas, the prior of the Spanish convent at Damascus; the fact is nowise proved, and the perpetrators of the deed are not discovered. The medical men and surgeons, charged by the local authorities with the examination of the bones found in the sewers of the Jewish quarter, have declared that the bones must have been there a long time, and were bones of animals.

The Morning Herald put the charge in context by citing it as an example of Blood Libel:

If the persecution of the Jews at Damascus, as several letters affirm, from the often-repeated assertion that the Jews eat Christian blood at their Passover, this merely proves that centuries cannot destroy opinions repugnant to human nature, which are contrary to the letter of the Jewish law.

The writer of the Morning Herald piece closes with this point showing the cruel absurdity of the whole incident:

... in this instance, [the murder] is still more void of probability, as the matter of Father Thomas took place in February, whereas the Jewish Passover is in April.

As an aside, Blood Libel is a charge I associate with medieval times. As this incident shows, I was way off. It's gut-wrenching to read such a vivid account taking place in what are effectively modern times. Even more alarming, the Wikipedia page on Blood Libel shows that the Damascus Affair, what the above incident would become known as, was not an outlier in either time or scope.

Turning back to the world of newspapers, the most notable response to the incident was by the Times of London, which published articles arguing all sides of the conflict. On August 17th, 1840 they took the unusual step of publishing a nearly complete English translation of the Haggadah. They did so to refute the claim that Jews use blood during Passover:

A correspondent has furnished the annexed very minute account of this ceremony, which will be exceedingly curious in itself to most of our readers, and has at the same time an evident bearing on the Damascus case. It repels strongly the barbarous notion that human blood, or blood of any kind, is essential to its celebration.

While I've come across a number of low resolution images of the August 17th edition of the Times, I've yet to find a copy that's legible to persuse. Sefaria, thankfully, has a translation who's claimed source is the Times of London's text. This blog post shares details of the Time's edition that corroborate the Sefaria text.

For example, both the blog entry and Sefari note that Rabbi Gamliel's 'Three Things' include an explanation that Christian Blood isn't included in his list:

Rabbi Gamlieh saith, that whosoever doth not make mention of three things used in the Passover hath not done his duty (Christian’s blood is not mentioned): the paschal lamb, the unleavened cake, and bitter herbs.

There's a similar comment at Yachatz, when the matza is traditionally broken:

The master then breaks the middle cake in the dish, and, leaving one half of it there, he lays the other half by for the offering, which is nothing more nor less than a piece of the Passover cake, and it is that which it is said human blood forms a portion of.

Other than these notations about blood not being used, and a few old timey word choices, the translation is surprisingly ordinary.

Except, that is for the way the story of the Five Rabbis is translated. Check out how the readers of the Times of London saw this passage on the 17th:

And thus it is related by Rabbi Eliezer, Rabbi Joshua, Rabbi Elazar, the son of Azariah, Rabbi Akeba, and Rabbi Trapon, that they once met (on the night of Passover, in a place inhabited by Jewish proselytes, said to be descended from Haman) and continued discoursing of the departure from Egypt all that night till their disciples came, and said, ‘Instructors, it is time to read the morning prayer.’

London readers didn't read about B'nei Brak, instead they were provided with a parenthesized equivalent: in a place inhabited by Jewish proselytes, said to be descended from Haman.

I'd never seen this paragraph translated this way, and neither had anyone at our seder. Two questions immediately came to mind: what's the source of this equivalency, and why opt to include it?

The what is easy to answer. This idea that B'nei Brak is the place inhabited by Jewish descendants of (wicked, boo!) Haman comes from the Talmud. Sanhedrin 96b, verse 9 says in part:

The baraita continues: Among the descendants of Haman were those who studied Torah in Bnei Brak. ...

Gittin 57b, verse 7 also mentions:

The Gemara adds that some of Haman’s descendants studied Torah in Bnei Brak, ...

The why took some digging. Looking at the dialogue between the chief Rabbi defending the Jews in Damascus, and the Pasha accusing them, I got the sense that their arguments took on, at times, an almost technical air. Here's how the September 19th, 1840 edition of the Sunbury and Shamokin Journal reports at least part of their dialogue:

And of the Haman, the chief Rabbi of the city, he requested him to sign the confession, saying, You surely killed him.

(Here follows the answer of the Rabbi, refusing to confess to a falsehood, which was published in the extracts which appeared in The Sun.)

The Pasha then said, 'At least sign to this, that by your law the property of the Gentiles is allowed to you.'

The Rabbi answered, 'It is false.'

The Pasha answered, 'In the Talmud (as I am informed) it is said from Habakkuk, 'He saw and spoiled the nations.'

The Rabbi said, 'This verse refers to the heathen idolaters, and the despoiling of the Gentile is a heinous crime.'

In this context, one can almost hear the accuser citing the Megillah as proof of how bloodthirsty Jews are. To which, the Rabbi responds that the Talmud talks about the descendants of Haman studying Torah.

While this hypothesis may earn points for creativity, it's way off. The real reason why the Times editors arrived at this translation was strictly practical.

The first English translation of the Haggadah was published in 1770 by Alexander Alexander. In it, he faced the challenge of how to translate B'nei Brak:

[The] Hebrew name “Bnei Brak” consists of two words of which the first, “Bnei”, can be translated as “children of”, while the second, “Brak”, could be understood as the name of a person, Berak, which was confusing for early translators.

In 1770, the first to translate the Haggadah into English (London), Alexander, therefore translated that the rabbis “were entertained amongst the children of Berak” and added the footnote that Berak is “a place inhabited by proselytes, Jews descended from Haman.”

Years ago I printed a copy of Alexander's Haggadah for use at our Seder. Sure enough, in that copy the footnote is present:

The editors of the Times didn't use Alexander's translation of the Haggadah; instead, they used a later one by Isaac Levi. In Levi's translation he took another approach to this translation:

A far less-known but extremely influential translator/ editor is Isaac Levi, the third translator of the Haggadah into English. Isaac took David Levi’s translations and “edited” them (making gross mistakes along the way). In this instance, he reversed the English “children of Berak” to the name Bnei Brak but instead of translating it, he left the name in Hebrew. He didn’t touch the footnote:

This image shows what the editors of the Times had to work with:

They were left with little choice but to swap the Hebrew for the footnote, which gives us the translation we see today.

So we have Alexander and some no doubt hurried Times editors to thank for the above translation.

I think, however, they were on to something with the phrasing of their text. Even in times of peril and persecution, like the Damascus Affair, it serves us well to recite the story of the five rabbis with Alexander's footnote in mind. That is, we strive not just to come together in community, but to do so in the seemingly impossible state of harmony with the descendants of our enemies.

Equally important, the Times of London's Haggadah is here to remind us that such a goal will only come about if take innovative and creative action to get there.

This year we are slaves. Next year may be free. Now we are here; next year may we be in a B'nei Brak.

G's Baltimore Adventure - The USCG Cutter 37

[Composed 9/21/2024]

From the USS Torsk, we made our way to the USCG Cutter 37, formerly known as the Taney. Compared to the USS Torsk, the Cutter is positively palatial. Shira, G and I toured the vessel inside and out, relishing the chance to climb ladders, crawl through hatches and generally futz around with every latch and lever we* could touch.

Parts of the Taney were familiar and easy to explain to G: the large mess and bunk area for the enlisted men, the comparatively fancy captain and officer quarters and the on-board doctor's office, or sick bay to keep everyone healthy.

But there were plenty of details that were way over our heads. The sick bay, for example, was far more elaborate than would normally be found on a ship this size. This made it a unique feature that could be deployed in innovative ways. One notable use was during the Vietnam war where the Taney used its advanced medical facilities to treat over 6,000 Vietnamese villagers.

Of course we made our way forward to the relatively large 5" gun. The gun, to me, felt a bit out of place as I associate the coast guard with lifesaving and humanitarian missions. And while it's true that the Coast Guard does undertake these missions, it's my perspective that was naive.

For the entire span of Taney's career, offensive capabilities played a role. During WW II, as the photo in this article shows, the Cutter was armed to the teeth. In fact, the ship has the unique distinction of being the last vessel afloat that participated in the response to the attack on Pearl Harbor. Reading an account of that day, one can appreciate just how valiantly the crew of the Taney performed. Fast forward 44 years, and one of Cutter 37's last actions was to seize the M/V Sea Maid 1, which was towing a barge containing 160 tons(!) of marijuana 300 miles off the coast of Virginia. The Taney's role in Vietnam wasn't limited to health duties, it also participated in naval operations, firing more than 3,400 shells from its 5" in gun--the very type of gun that G and I marveled at.

While the Taney had occasion to flex its muscles, many of its missions were far more peaceful. During Amelia Earhart's attempted flight around the world, the Cutter 37 served as a signal beacon, transmitting a navigational radio signal as well as "dense clouds of smoke from its boilers.". It also participated in the ominous sounding (yet, apparently harmless) Pacific Island colonization program, that allowed the US to claim a handful of deserted islands in the Pacific. The primary and possibly only resource of note on these islands was, I kid you not, bird poop.

The Cutter 37's most common mission during its career was that of Ocean Station. The idea was that Coast Guard Cutters like the Taney would sail out to a 10 mile square 'station' in the Atlantic or Pacific and then essentially chill there. They would primarily broadcast weather and sea data and be on hand if there was an emergency in the area.

I'd never considered that for many years we had the science to do weather forcasting, but not the technology to collect the data with ease. If you wanted weather data on a section of the ocean the way to get it was to send a ship there to collect it. The stations were described as "44,000 square miles of bad weather." Yikes, no thank you.

It's worth taking a moment to appreciate how the Cutter received and then lost its name, Taney.

The ship, originally named the Roger B. Taney was named for, you guessed it, Roger Taney. In 1937, the name was shortened to just Taney. But why name a ship after Roger Taney?

Roger Taney was Secretary of the Treasury in 1833, and Cutter 37 was built with a group of ships which were all 'Treasury Secretary Class.' That is, they were all 327-foot cutters and all named after Treasury Secretaries. Why Treasury Secretaries?

This makes sense when you learn that until 1967, the Coast Guard was under the Department of the Treasury. Its original mission was to act as tariff enforcement and run anti-smuggling operations on behalf of the Treasury.

So, having a cluster of ships all named after the bosses of your department does sort of make sense.

But even here, we get our first hint that Taney will be a controversial name. In a move that feels uncomfortably modern, Roger Taney was appointed as Secretary of the Treasury by Andrew Jackson as a recess appointment. When Congress reconvened, they ultimately rejected Taney and he was booted from the post.

The Cutter loses the name Taney for actions Roger Taney took after his short stint as secretary. Jackson goes on to nominate Roger Taney to the Supreme Court, where he is eventually appointed. It's here that he authors the infamous Dred Scott decision:

On March 6, 1857, in the case of Dred Scott v. John Sanford, United States Supreme Court Chief Justice Roger B. Taney ruled that African Americans were not and could not be citizens. Taney wrote that the Founders' words in the Declaration of Independence, “all men were created equal,” were never intended to apply to blacks. Blacks could not vote, travel, or even fall in love and marry of their own free will — rights granted, according to the Declaration, by God to all. It was the culmination of ten years of court battles — Dred Scott's fight to live and be recognized as a free man.

The High Court's decision went even further, declaring laws that restricted slavery in new states or sought to keep a balance between free and slave states, such as the Missouri Compromise, were unconstitutional. In essence, Black Americans, regardless of where they lived, were believed to be nothing more than commodities.

Ouch. In 2020, the curators of Cutter, announced: “in support of the local, national, and global call to remove symbols venerating oppression and racial injustice,” the organizations have decided to remove the ship’s name. For the moment, it will be referred to by its hull identification number, WHEC-37, which stands for High Endurance Cutter.

If anything, it's remarkable how long the name stuck. I can't imagine being a sailor of color serving on a vessel named after an individual who didn't just believe I had no rights, but actively sought to make that the law of the land.

From the Cutter, we had one more ship tour we wanted to squeeze in. Shiver me timbers, it's time to tour the pirate ship!

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*And by we, I mean me and 4 year old G.