Introduction

Another holiday season goes in the books…not the least of which are the check books.  Our family has developed a tradition of attending a movie on Christmas evening, that is, by those who have sufficiently recovered from the materialistic orgy of gift giving and gluttony.  Since wife and I no longer host the activities, I felt energetic enough to accompany the movie goers this year.  Of course I was counting on deferential treatment for this old patriarch, and was not disappointed, for I was deposited at the theater entrance while a grandson parked the car.  Fortunately, this provided just enough time for me to purchase tickets for the group.

The movie we had chosen was The Imitation Game, which provoked some painful memories for me.  For those unfamiliar with the story, it is about the person who was able to break the German code in World War II, and is credited with designing the precursor to modern computers.  As portrayed in the movie, the main character exhibited symptoms suggestive of a diagnosis of Asperger’s syndrome.  He was also homosexual, “outed” by British police, charged with “indecent behavior,” chose chemical castration in lieu of incarceration, and eventually committed suicide.

Bryan

The story reminded me of a major failure of mine as a psychiatrist many years ago.  Bryan (not his real name of course) was a freshman at the university where I was teaching.  His chief complaint was depression with rather typical symptoms such as: insomnia, loss of appetite, restricted interests, weight loss, the inability to experience pleasure, impaired concentration, and self-deprecation.  In those days, depression was characterized either as Reactive or Endogenous.  As the word suggests, the former title was reserved for those patients who had experienced trauma of some kind such as grief or other kind of loss, while the latter referred to those for whom no explanation could be found to explain their illness.

Initially Bryan’s depression seemed to be without cause and therefore endogenous.  As a matter of fact, it seemed that he should be sitting on top of the  world.  He was a very handsome young man with blond hair and muscular build.  He had been valedictorian of his class, the quarterback of his football team and the president of his high school class.  He soon confessed, however, that he had recently participated in a sexual encounter with another male student, which left him immersed in shame and guilt for he said he never wanted to be a “queer.” He did acknowledge that he had always been attracted to males, but had previously been able to suppress and ignore those feelings. However a few beers at a fraternity party had allowed him to act out impulsively with devastating results.

Bryan’s Call for Help

After a few visits with little change, he arrived one day, and announced that he was feeling much better, and had decided to quit school to look for work in his hometown.  I of course questioned such a drastic decision especially since in the face of depression judgment is often impaired.  He assured me that he was no longer depressed and felt much better since deciding to change the course of his life.  Several weeks passed until one day I received a call from his Mother who wanted to see me in person to talk about Bryan.   As promised, Bryan had quit school, and gone home but not to look for a job.  Shortly after his last visit with me, he had shot himself in the head.  Fortunately or unfortunately depending on one’s point of view he did not die and after several weeks in the hospital was placed in a nursing home.  Mother reported that he had suffered severe brain damage, and was in her words a “vegetable” with no hope of improvement.

The Pain of Hindsight

My thoughts went immediately to that last visit, and I realized my blunder in not decoding Bryan’s message.  For he was telling me that he had found a terrible solution to his problem, and I should have suspected that such a sudden cure from depression of this magnitude was extremely unlikely, and probably was what has been called by psychiatrists a “flight into health”.   Studies have shown that suicidal patients frequently send such coded messages prior to attempting to kill themselves.  They seem to be rolling the dice to see if anyone will notice, perhaps retaining a faint glimmer of hope that someone might still be able to rescue them from their torment.  I also theorized that his termination of our relationship was designed to release him from the promises he had made to me that he would not act out his suicidal thoughts.

Depression: What It Is and What It Isn’t. What Helps and What Doesn’t.

At the risk of digressing from my story, I feel the need to talk about depression and suicide.  It is unfortunate that the word depression is used to describe a group of very serious, often fatal illnesses, which are often confused with the transient feelings of sadness we all experience from time to time.  This leads to a great deal of misunderstanding by most people as to what we as psychiatrists mean by depression, and often leads to delay in treatment.  We use a number of adjectives such as: melancholic, bipolar, unipolar, major, etc. to differentiate different types of depression, but the one thing they all have in common is that the course of the afflicted person’s illness is beyond his/her control.

Consequently; advice such as, “go have some fun, don’t take yourself so seriously, stop worrying so much,” and my all time favorite “you need to trust more in God” are apt to worsen the situation.  Suggesting such remedies is much like advising a person with a broken arm to go lift weights.  The fact that the person is unable to do these simple things further depresses self-esteem which is already at a low ebb.

Much as we who are treating have a semantic problem in labeling, our patients have a problem in describing their symptoms for I don’t believe there are any words in the English language that can adequately describe the torment of the clinically depressed patient.  The more seriously depressed are often literally at a loss for words.  I have seen patients with histories of medical problems resulting in excruciating physical pain who tell me that it was nothing compared to the suffering endured by an episode of clinical depression.  No wonder that the CIA chose two psychologists to design a protocol for their “enhanced interrogation,” for depressed patients often describe their condition as torture.  Faced with such intolerable torment and hopelessness, it is not surprising that one might choose the only avenue left.

Indeed, the lack of hope in a depressed person is one of the risk factors for suicide.   Untreated clinical depression carries a mortality rate of nearly 20%, but is not often treated as a potentially fatal disease.

40,600 Suicides

Much has been written in the lay literature about suicide, but much more needs to be done.  Suicide is endemic throughout the world, and the incidence varies little in different parts of the world.  ¹The Center for disease control reports 40,600 suicides in 2012, but the actual incidence is certainly much higher as there are many incentives to deny the true cause of such deaths.

Suicide remains the 4^th leading cause of death among children and young adults, and the epidemic of suicides among returning veterans has finally gained some notice.  The loss of life is only part of the tragedy of suicide.  Families have a grief enhanced by questions such as: What could I have done, Why didn’t he tell me?  The grief and guilt are often laced with the anger of having been abandoned.   In my experience the pain suffered by parents of child suicides is by far the most intense.  As one parent told me several years after losing her child, you never get over it, you just learn to live with it.

When Was Homosexuality Demonized?

Anthropologists have reported that many so called primitive societies (that term may be one of those pot kettle things) were accepting of homosexual behavior and in some instances homosexuals were venerated.

John Boswell² and Scott Bidstrup³ allege it was not until the 12^th  Century that homosexuality came to be regarded as immoral, and subsequently was made illegal.  Bidstrup holds the Christian church responsible for those judgments, and sees them as the genesis for the homophobia which still persists to some degree.  It should be noted however that the Torah⁴  prescribes death as punishment for sex between two men or two women; although some scholars insist this was meant to apply  only to certain pagan practices. In the New Testament Romans 1”26-27 is frequently used as proof of the sinful and immoral nature of homosexuality but again others disagree with that interpretation.   There have always been disagreements amongst scholars and lay people alike regarding scriptural meanings, and nowhere is this more apparent than with the issue of homosexuality.  My own personal opinion is that these interpretations are strongly influenced by one’s political view as people of a more liberal bent generally appear to be more accepting.   There is ample evidence that homosexuality has always existed regardless of the culture, and its prohibitions, and its incidence does not vary a great deal.

Whenever I see on TV gay couples being married or hear of a gay pride parade, my thoughts often turn to Bryan.  I wonder if he had lived in a time when the homosexual label was less toxic, and he had not been conditioned to view it as repugnant and shameful, would he have lived to fulfill the promise that his life seemed to hold for him.

Homophobia in the Old Days

I must confess that I was a classic homophobe early on in my life.  Although, I did not approve of gay bashing which some thought was a fun way to spend a Saturday evening, awareness of its happening did not seem to bother me much in those days.  I recall that being called Queer was worse than sissy; although in my case I had no idea what the former meant.  Sex was a taboo subject in those days except between adolescent boys whose testosterone levels were heading for the stratosphere.  The “F” word was considered the most profane utterance of all, and would only be heard in secure facilities such as the boy’s locker room.   By high school awareness of male attraction to males came to the fore, and should one, heaven forbid, develop an erection in the post game shower, he became immediately suspect and would likely be shunned.  In those days a guy would likely receive more respect as an axe murderer than as a homosexual.  I imagine the same attitudes were still in place during Bryan’s time, and I picture him attempting to avoid any glances at his team mate’s anatomy.  Come to think of it, such behavior is not unique as can be witnessed by observing a group of men relieving themselves at a row of urinals.  Without exception, they will all be staring straight ahead as if there is something particularly interesting on the wall.  It is as if to look down at another man’s genitalia would signify a prurient interest.

After becoming a physician and later a psychiatrist I became aware of the multitude of serious problems facing the male homosexual.  For most the fear of discovery was always with them.  After all there were so called sodomy laws some of which remain on the books in a few jurisdictions; although generally no longer enforced.  There was widespread discrimination in hiring.  For those fortunate enough to have a job, outing could result in its loss.  Long term relationships were not common, since living with another man was sure to raise eyebrows.   Consequently; multiple sexual partners were common which put them at greater risk for venereal diseases.  As mentioned previously gay bashing was a popular sport among some homophobes, and was rarely prosecuted unless it resulted in death.  Some religious groups considered them evil and others saw them as simply disgusting.  Ridicule and denigration were not unusual.  The cruelest cut of all was for those who were ostracized by their family when their sexual identity was revealed.   At a time in their lives when they most needed love and support, they were recipients of rejection and shame.

There were a few openly gay people, but most chose to remain secretive for obvious reasons.  Bisexuals were able to maintain the charade of heterosexuality in most cases, marry and be seen as traditional family men.  Some with a more  fixed sexual identity would also marry as a means to cover their sexuality or as an attempt to “cure” themselves.  Needless to say such unions were rarely successful.  Some estimate the incidence of homosexuality to be as high as seven per cent, and since their lives were usually quite stressful the incidence of depression, and anxiety disorders was in my experience significantly higher than that seen in the population at large.  The result of which was that there were more patients with problems arising from their sexual identity than one might expect.

Homosexuality: Nature or Nurture?

During my more than fifty years in the practice of general medicine and psychiatry, the one thing all those patients had in common was their insistence that they had not chosen to be homosexual.  Almost without exception when I asked my homosexual patients when they had become aware of their sexual orientation, their response was that they had always known they were different.  They felt it was not a learned behavior, but something they were born with.  Since Freud appeared on the scene over one hundred years ago, there has been a running debate as to the roles played by early childhood experiences versus genetics in human development, (the so called “nature, nurture controversy”).  Nowhere has the debate been more strident than in the areas of sexual identity and sexual orientation.

Freud’s formulation of the genesis of homosexuality was that normal psychosexual development was inhibited when a child grew up in a household where the mother was simultaneously seductive, but cold and rejecting, while the father was emotionally distant and uninvolved.  His views were widely accepted, but there were critics who insisted that these psychodynamics could not be elicited in many cases.  During the last half of the 20^th century there developed more interest in brain function as it relates to mental disorders, personality development etc.  This new field of neuroendocrinology with its high tech methods of studying brain function called into question many of Freud’s theories, and resulted in the development of many medications which have been lifesaving for many.  One eminent psychiatrist went so far as to declare the talking therapies obsolete, and many training programs deemphasized the teaching of the various psychotherapies.  It is true that there have been amazing progress in understanding how our brains function.  The discovery of DNA and mapping of the human genome have opened new exciting vistas for the study of human behavior and its problems.

Call me old fashioned (which of course I am), but I remain convinced that the hand that offers the pill is also important.   Man’s ability to form mutually dependent relationships was an important factor in the survival of the species.  I am convinced that the computer which gathers a patient’s history although accurate is not as effective as a concerned human being.   Brain scans may allow us to visualize certain feelings, but doesn’t show much empathy.  Recently, I have been heartened to read pleas for more psychotherapy training for psychiatry residents in some journals.  I am hopeful this may be a prelude to a return to a more equal swing of that nature-nurture pendulum.  Among the population at large, the distinction of the classic debate is important.  The major question  as whether homosexuality is predetermined or developmental remains unanswered.  Gay rights activists hold that homosexuality is merely a normal variation in one’s psychological makeup which is no more in their control than is the color of their skin; therefore genetically determined.  Others consider it to be immoral, while some of the more zealous religious groups still consider it a sin.  Regardless of etiology, there is general consensus in the psychiatric community that one’s sexual proclivities are not subject to change.  There are some who claim success in their efforts to change a person’s sexual orientation, but others refute these reports and suggest they are only teaching their subjects to repress their urges.

Hope for the Future?

Since Bryan’s day there have been remarkable changes in our society’s attitudes towards homosexuality; although that is not to say that discrimination and homophobia has been banished.  The enlightenment had its origins when the gay community organized and attached themselves to the coat tails of the civil rights movement of the sixties.  The political boldness of this group contributed to and was enhanced by several well known public figures who “came out of the closet” and reported they felt liberated by their decision.  I vividly recall the hallabaloo in the press when Billy Jean King announced to the world that she was a lesbian.  This was in marked contrast to the recent outing of Anderson Cooper which hardly caused a whimper.  There was as expected a backlash in those early days of the movement, and one of my other vague memories of those times is of a gay man who was tied to a fence pot and beaten to death by two rednecks.

In 1972 my own professional organization, The American Psychiatric Association, in an apparent response to political pressure deleted homosexuality from the list of mental disorders in ⁶DSM III (The Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Illness).  They resolved their ambivalence about causation by adding the term “Homosexual dysphoria” referring to mood problems associated with homosexuality.  The response of the membership was mixed with some praising the leadership and others expressing concerns that the organization was abandoning scientific principles for political correctness, and that the new term was simply an attempt at fence straddling.

The march towards gay rights was slowed by the aides epidemic, which was originally called the gay disease.  One prominent TV evangelist went so far as to label the disease as God’s punishment of gays for their sins, and equated it to the story of Sodom and Gomorrah.  Although less evident discrimination is not hard to find even though examples are less obvious.  One such case was brought to my attention shortly before my recent retirement.  The patient was a young man who  was angry, depressed and  anxious.  He was employed in a factory where he told me he had received awards for his productivity;  however that was to change after it became known that he was homosexual.  He was continually harassed teased and belittled.  His work bench was sabotaged.  He was routinely addressed as faggot or queer, and was shunned in the lunch room.  He decided to take his problem to the human services department where he received only token acknowledgment, and later heard his supervisor refer to him as a “fag trouble maker”.   He sought legal redress for the discrimination in which he thought his employer was complicit.  This accomplished little other than to deplete his savings with legal fees.  With the abusive behaviors unchecked they escalated until the stress became intolerable and he quit his job.  His employer refused to okay his application for unemployment compensation.

In spite of such incidents, which are hopefully isolated, there are hopeful signs that things are changing for the better.  The gay community has become organized and is no longer powerless.  There is a new openness regarding sexual identity, and fewer reasons to remain in the shadows.  In recent years I have noted that my patients are rarely apologetic for their sexuality, and in most cases have accepted it.  With this newfound openness, there appears to be more long term relationships.  Polls show that in the past few years there has been a demonstrable increase in the acceptance of gay marriages, and a relaxation by some courts on the bans against gay parenthood.  The most hopeful sign for the future; however, is the fact that homophobia appears to have been drastically reduced among young people.

It has pleased me to witness more dramatic changes in attitudes in the past 50 years than have occurred in the previous several hundred.  They come too late for Bryan; however they may be life saving for others.  That is important as the world is in great need of their sensitivity and creativity.

¹Centers for Disease Control and Prevention; Fatal injury Report 2012

²Boswell, John; The church and the homosexual an historical perspective

³Bidstrup,Scott; Saint Aelred the Queer

⁴Leviticus 20:13

⁵Romans 1:26-27

⁶The diagnostic status of homosexuality in DSM III: a reformulation perspective; Amerrican Journal of Psychiatry: Volume 138 issue 2 February 1981 pp. 210-215

Preface: This article is intended to provide a straight-forward, unedited view of my perception of the treatment of minorities as a young white boy growing up in the Midwest. In that vein, I use the derogatory terms for minorities that were commonly used in those days as a literary device to illustrate how far we have come while acknowledging we have a long way to go in our quest to fulfill Martin Luther King, Jr.’s vision that a person be judged by the content of his character rather than the color of his skin.

Introduction:

In my last blog, I mentioned that my childhood was a kinder gentler time.  As I re-read that sentence, it dawned on me that for many people that time was neither kind nor gentle.

JAPS

I was 11 years old when the Japanese attacked Pearl Harbor.  Like most people, I was caught up in the patriotic fervor of the day.  We were taught that this “sneak attack” was characteristic of these “sneaky little slant-eyed devils.”  We applauded the imprisonment of all people of Japanese descent, even if they were American citizens. Preservation of national security and the suspicion that these Japanese Americans couldn’t be trusted, was the rationale used to effectively imprison American citizens without being charged with a crime.  Of course the word “prison” was not used and this completely unconstitutional act was justified by saying they would be interned only for the duration of the war.  Most of these people lived in California, and there was concern that if Japan invaded the West Coast many Japanese Americans would be involved in sabotage.  A large percentage of these “detained citizens” were farmers who owned some of the best farmland in the country. When the war ended, they found themselves homeless because their farms had been sold for back taxes.

JEWS

The war in Europe had been going on for some time, but there was little note of the persecution of Jews by Hitler.  Anti-semitism was rife in the U.S., and I can recall overhearing conversations where adults blamed the Depression (and poverty in general) on “those New York Jews.” Consequently, when a ship full of German Jews appeared on the East Coast, they were denied asylum and turned away, eventually returning to Europe to await their fate.

COLOREDS

African Americans were drafted into the military in large numbers, but usually assigned to non-combatant roles.  It was not until 1948 that Harry Truman issued an executive order to desegregate the military.  A number of years later, I happened to be reading a story in The Reader’s Digest that was written by the first African American man granted a commission in the Navy.  He recounted the bigotry that still existed when he was commissioned, but made mention of one person who had been supportive.  I am proud to say that person was one of my cousins, Travis Van Horn.

Higher paying jobs were denied to African-Americans.  They were excluded from most factory work and if they were hired it would be to do the “dirty work” or to clean the premises.  They were denied membership in most trade unions so that only positions as laborers were all that were available to them.  For example if working on a construction job, a black man would be mixing the mortar and carrying the bricks while a white guy would be laying them.  These factors contributed to higher unemployment among blacks and more poverty in black neighborhoods, but the average white person would explain the cause to be laziness.  Black women’s job opportunities were largely limited to domestic help, or cleaning of offices or motels.

WASPs

In my position as a WASP (White Anglo Saxon Protestant) in a middle class neighborhood, I didn’t have much contact with black kids.  There were a few in our schools, but most attended schools in black neighborhoods. No black family would ever dare move into a white neighborhood.  Statements meant to deny racism such as “I have nothing against niggers, but I wouldn’t want one to move in next door or my daughter to marry one” were common.

Higher paying jobs were denied to African-Americans.  They were excluded from most factory work and if they were hired it would be to do the “dirty work” or to clean the premises.  They were denied membership in most trade unions so that only positions as laborers were all that were available to them.  For example if working on a construction job, a black man would be mixing the mortar and carrying the bricks while a white guy would be laying them.  These factors contributed to higher unemployment among blacks and more poverty in black neighborhoods, but the average white person would explain the cause to be laziness.  Black women’s job opportunities were largely limited to domestic help, or cleaning of offices or hotels.

Generally I believe that even here in a small town in the Midwest it was commonly held that black people were intellectually inferior, oversexed and smelled badly. They were not required to go to the back of the bus, they did so because they “knew their place.”    During my childhood, there were still occasional reports of lynching in the South.  Although such murders were generally disparaged, I don’t recall a huge public outcry, but then kids don’t pay much attention to the news.

The Bubble of Bigotry

Even though I was immersed in a culture of bigotry, I was mostly oblivious to it.  Yes, I had wondered why the black kids all chose to sit in the balcony at the movies, and I was aware that the local skating rink was open to blacks only on Monday nights.  I knew that a nearby ice cream store was closed on Monday nights, but never made the connection.  There were two side by side swimming pools in our town presumably to make us feel that we were doing well by satisfying the separate but equal mantra.  The schools were integrated in theory.  There were no separate water fountains or rest rooms, but a quarterback on the football team would have been unthinkable.

The first time I can recall feeling much empathy for African Americans occurred while I was a teenager working at my father’s service station.  A black family pulled into the station to get gasoline.  Their license plate indicated they were from a neighboring state.  As I was filling the tank, the father crossed the street to a nearby restaurant, knocked on the back door, and returned with food for his family.  It suddenly dawned on me how demeaning this must be for a person to be excluded from even entering this dumpy little restaurant, let alone not being allowed to feed his family there.   Until then, I had not noticed that black folks did not eat in our restaurants.

Equal Opportunity Bigotry

Our prejudices were not limited to African Americans, we were equal opportunity bigots.  Words* such as WOP, dago, kraut, heinie, hun, chink, jap, nip, Pollock, towel head, kike, frog, and nigger were all part of our everyday vocabulary. There were many jokes about “dumb Pollocks” and “Irish drunks.” We were tolerant of other religions, but only barely.  Discrimination against Catholics and Jews was more subtle than it was for people who had a different skin color, and the non-WASPs reciprocated by keeping a superficial but cordial relationship with us. Many families were fragmented by interfaith marriages. After all it was the Jews who murdered Jesus, and the Pope was felt by many to be a dictator intent on world domination, in some cases even considered the devil incarnate. Indeed, even marriages between people of the same religion, such as Catholicism, but different cultures (Italian or Irish) were considered controversial.

Western movies were a favorite amongst us kids and cowboys and Indians was a favorite game.  As in the movies, the ones who got to be cowboys were the good guys and the Indians were ruthless savages.  No one bothered to tell us how they had been displaced from their lands, persecuted and ethnically cleansed.  Nor did we learn anything about their customs.  Here in the land of the free they were not permitted to practice their own religion or even speak their own language.  We of course were blissfully ignorant of all this.

*Etymology of Slurs

WOP = a term used to describe Italian immigrants and stood for With Out Papers

Dago = is thought to be from the Spanish term Diego and was a slur used to describe Italians.

Heinie= term referred to Germans, in which the origin is probably the German colloquial word Heini, which is loosely translated as idiot or moron.

Nips= shortened for the Japanese word for Japan, which is Nippon

Kike = several theories on this etymology of this Jewish slur. Some say it originated at Ellis Island when Jewish people who didn’t write English refused to sign with an X because it represented the Christian cross so they would sign with a circle. Keikl is the Yiddish word for circle.

Faggots

The problems of the aforementioned folks, pale in comparison to that of the so called “sexual deviant.”  This term is very telling for it might be defined as any kind of sexual activity which deviates from the “norm,” which was in actuality often interpreted as any type of sexual activity other than that performed in the missionary position.  Prescribed punishments for these deviants was codified in so called sodomy laws and varied from two to 10 years in prison depending on the state.   Consequently, homosexuals attempted to satisfy their needs in secret.

Men living together would surely raise questions so they would secretly “cruise” to find willing partners.  Parks and public restrooms were the places where they could meet, and engage in clandestine sexual activity.  These areas became labeled as public nuisances.

Homophobia was rampant, fueled by misinformation equating homosexuality with pedophilia, bestiality and all other manner of criminal behavior.  Gay men were not only at risk of contracting venereal diseases, but also becoming the object of a “gay bashing party” which could be administered either by redneck homophobes or police.  In some cases, arrest and resultant exposure could have caused even more devastating results.

Some had married in an attempt to hide their homosexuality or in the mistaken belief that they could change their sexual orientation.  Exposure could literally destroy their lives.  The stress of living under such a cloud took a toll and suicide rates among gays were higher than in the general population.

Did the Rampant Poverty of the Depression Encourage Bigotry?

In a previous blog I had mentioned that I was “a child of The Depression.” My own family suffered through that period along with millions of others.  I’ve often wondered if the struggle for basic needs led to more prejudice and bigotry as all people struggled for the scraps to survive. Or, did it just allow more people who might have disagreed with unfair treatment of minorities to ignore it due to their instinct for self-preservation? As in the Maslow’s hierarchy of needs, it is difficult for one to aspire to self-actualization and championing a cause for others when scrambling each day to feed his family?

My father had been unemployed, and had lost our home to foreclosure.  I was not aware of my family’s financial woes and had no idea that we were poor.  It never occurred to me to question our frequent moves, or why our parents sometimes insisted we eat before they came to the table.  Occasionally there was “surplus” food available at the local “relief office,” and I do recall Dad coming home one time with a gigantic cloth sack of rice.  Subsequently we daily ate every kind of rice dish imaginable long enough that to this day I have an aversion to rice.

As I’ve grown older, I see this as a credit to phenomenal selfless parenting I was afforded. My parent’s ability to sacrifice in order to make me feel safe and secure during a time of extreme poverty is something at which I marvel today. Hence, I didn’t grow up feeling like a victim or insecure.

My father’s friends congregated most nights at our house to discuss their successes and failures at finding work.   I recall lying on the floor listening to their conversations as they discussed strategies or rumors of where a day’s labor might be available amid speculation as to whether they had enough gasoline to get there and back. In retrospect, my father’s home brew was probably the real attraction.  One of those nights comes to mind which I choose to relate in spite of the risk of offending the sensitivities of any SPCA or PETA members who may be reading this.  Dad had received a live rooster in return for some work he had done for a farmer, and when the guys assembled in our cellar for one of the brews, dad decided to offer the rooster a sample.  He gobbled it quickly and was given a refill.  The poor rooster was immediately tipsy and began to stagger around the room, lift his head and attempt to crow.  If he had a hangover, it would have been short lived for he would be in a pot with some drop dumplings the following day.

For many there were no fond memories of those times.  The basics of food and shelter were not available to all.  There were essentially no social safety nets.  In retrospect, it amazes me that there was not more civil unrest or even revolution in the face of such ubiquitous suffering.  I suppose hope stayed alive partially due to Roosevelt’s programs and reassurances that things would improve.  He was a public relations genius and I recall how everyone who could get near a radio would tune in to his “fireside chats.”

The Hobo

The Great Depression spawned a new type of homeless person who came to be called the hobo.   Homeless people were not permitted to sleep in parks or other public places.  There were vagrancy laws which made it illegal to be destitute; consequently many unemployed homeless men kept on the move.  It seems they were much like Forrest Gump who started running and just didn’t stop.  They sometimes hopped freight trains or rode the rails, but could often be seen walking along the highways. Theirs was a rather solitary existence; although through the years they had developed a subculture, and would share with each other the whereabouts of likely places to get free food and other logistical information.  For example they would learn which towns were tolerant of begging and which jails to avoid.   At times there might be chance meetings under a railroad bridge or other secluded spot where several might stay for a few days until rousted out by the authorities.  Their routes of travel tended to follow the seasons much as do migrating birds, and they would rarely be seen in our area when cold weather set in.  Since my grandparents’ farm was located on a well traveled state route they were subject to frequent visits.  The hobo or tramp as they were sometimes called would offer to do work for food.  Grandma would thank him for offering, decline his help, and bring a plate of food out on the back porch for him.  The transaction was mutually beneficial as his hunger was satiated as was her need to do her Christian duty.

After The Great Depression

By the early fo1940s, things were beginning to improve for most families thanks to the war effort.  In short order a decade of massive unemployment morphed into a labor shortage as factories were converted to produce planes, tanks, guns, and ammunitions.  The draft was in full swing, and out of desperation, women were hired to work in the factories.  It has been said that nothing unites a people like a common enemy.  That was certainly the case during WWII, for our hatred focused on those terrible people, the Japs and the Germans.  It seemed as if generations of ethnic strife was put aside in order to deal with a common threat.

My family, as did many others, soon moved to the big city where they both found work in an airplane factory.  My brother was drafted into the army at 18 and a few months later found himself in the Battle of the Bulge. My parents would cringe whenever they saw a Western Union telegraph delivery person in the neighborhood for fear that he would be heading to our house with the dreaded message which began: “We regret to inform you…”

As the months passed, many blue stars hanging in front windows were replaced with gold ones.  At a time when over 60 million people were being killed, not to mention 6 million Jews, it is ludicrous to say this was a kinder and gentler time. However, it does seem in the face of this worldwide catastrophe, people did seem to be more caring.

Following the cessation of hostilities it was not long until anger began to emerge.  The civil rights movement changed laws but I am afraid not many attitudes.  Recently I sense a backlash.  For example things like preferential treatment legislated for minority groups leads to resentment on the people who feel they are being punished for the sins of their fathers.  If history is any judge then these feelings will also fester and conflict will continue as always.

Self-identification is an interesting concept. There are some identifiers we can’t avoid, such as skin color or gender. There are other identifiers we choose, such as religious affiliation or being a member of a fraternity or sorority. It appears humans have always found ways to group themselves to be part of a smaller community versus embracing the idea that we are all part of the human race. We all want to be heard. We all want to be understood. To be loved. To be happy.

It reminds me of a story my daughter tells about her son who attended a Summer Bible Camp with a neighbor. Little did she know the zealous nature of the camp until her six-year-old son told her how each day before lunch, the preacher would call for true Christians to come to the front to be saved. In addition to being saved, they would get a prize from the toy box and a snack. Simon refused to go to the front of the room to be saved by the preacher. His neighbor pleaded with him, “Don’t you want to be saved, Simon? Don’t you want to be a Christian?” to which Simon responded, “I just want to be Simon.”

Ferguson

Now we are once again experiencing violent demonstrations, and there is little sign of true reconciliation.

The frustrations and injustices suffered by the citizens of Ferguson are undoubtedly well founded. They are reminiscent of the riots of 1992 in Los Angeles.  This was precipitated by the beating of a black man by police officers from the LAPD, which was recorded on video tape. His name was Rodney King and his tearful statement was perhaps the most eloquent and wise question of all when he said “Can we all just get along?”   Of course there has been progress in the area of black white relations, and the “N” word has supplanted the “F” word as the most profane of utterances.  But as my grandfather once said, “Just because you don’t say it, don’t mean you don’t think it.”

Like everyone else, I have been following the nearly continuous news briefs on the Ebola epidemic, and feel compelled to express some of my concerns. I have been watching the NIH guy who seems to be on the cable news channels at all hours.  I will give him credit for endurance, but I must confess that I am a bit skeptical of some of his pronouncements.  I get the feeling that his job is to reassure, and that the powers-that-be are more worried about panic amongst the populous than the spread of a virus with a 60% mortality rate.  Contrarian that I am, I can’t help wondering if a bit of low grade panic might be indicated.  As of this writing, the second case of Ebola has been contracted inside the United States.

Let the Blame Game Begin

As has become standard operating procedure, we can now let the blame games begin. The nurses blame the CDC.  The CDC blames the nurses and the hospitals.  The hospitals are quick to retaliate and join the nurses in blaming the CDC.   All this is done using polite terms but the inference is clear.   Predictably, it did not take long for the loudest and most vocal of all blamers to enter the fray—oh yes, the politicians saw this as an opportunity to make hay.   They blamed everyone except themselves.  It seems lost on them that they were the ones who cut the budgets of both the NIH and CDC, or that the position of Surgeon General had been vacant for over a year because they had refused to confirm his appointment, allegedly due to pressure from the National Rifle Association.  Perhaps he was not confirmed because he was opposed to people shooting people.

But do not fear our fearless leaders have already mounted their white horses and are getting ready to convene multiple congressional inquiries. I am sure this will solve the problem in short order.   They are now well rested from their vacation and will be full of vim and vigor.  They will be able to prance and preen, adopt expressions of concern only occasionally glancing at the TV monitors to see if they are being seen back home.  They will give opening statements as to how this issue is much too important to politicize it, prior to launching into a diatribe as to why the opposing party is responsible.  Yes indeed, it is true as someone said, we have the best government that money can buy.

Experts in Incompetence?

I am not convinced that all of the reassurances offered by our experts are justified.   Initially we were told that an infected person was not communicable until symptoms such as fever occurred.  Later that was modified from impossible to “very unlikely.”  We were also told that because this was not an airborne virus, it could only be contracted by direct contact with an infected person’s body fluids.  They did of course include saliva in the list of body fluids that could harbor the virus, and I was reminded of a friend who usually violates my space during a conversation and I find myself recipient of significant amounts of his spittle.  I guess this is not what they meant by “airborne.”

History of the Containment of Viruses before Vaccines

Although I am by no means a virologist or expert in communicable diseases, I was, an eon or so ago, a family doctor in the days before there were vaccines for many of the viral diseases.   Quarantine was our only weapon to prevent measles or chickenpox from infecting an entire school.  Nearly all adults had developed immunity to most of the childhood viruses because they were so prevalent that nearly everyone had been   infected during childhood. For anyone else, even minimal contact guaranteed infection. They all had incubation periods that were quite predictable, as does Ebola.  One of the difficulties in preventing the spread of viruses was the fact that the children were often infectious before they exhibited symptoms. However, tiny lesions inside the mouth called Koplik spots could often be seen a couple of days prior to development of the rash from Measles.   A testament to the success of measles vaccinations is that during a recent outbreak of measles in Southern  California (due to misguided information to parents who refused to have their children vaccinated) there were few pediatricians or family physicians who  had ever seen a measles rash let alone Koplik spots.

The incubation period for Ebola, as for all such viral illnesses, is the time it takes for the virus to replicate itself until there are sufficient numbers to cause symptoms. During that entire time, there are viruses present in the body and I find it difficult to believe that the number of organisms necessary to infect another person is exactly the same as that which will cause a fever.  We were taught in medical school to never use the terms never or always as there are always exceptions.  With this in mind, the idea that one is safe until full blown illness develops seems questionable.

Since there is no definitive treatment for Ebola, it has become necessary to revert to some of the tried and true methods of the past which were used to limit the spread of infectious diseases. Before antibiotics or vaccinations, local health departments were responsible for case finding and initiating quarantines.  It was not unusual to see a card in a window announcing that the family was under quarantine for some of the more serious illnesses, such as scarlet fever.  It was mandated that such illnesses be reported to the local health department whose job it was to monitor the patients, and their contacts.  This was especially true for venereal diseases, and although this could be embarrassing for the afflicted patient, the public’s health trumped privacy or personal embarrassment.  As a matter of fact it was routine policy for a serologic test for syphilis to be done on everyone admitted to a hospital.  Positive results would be reported, even though it was not convenient for an infected person to have his or her spouse notified.

Penicillin and Subsequent Antibiotics

In the 1940s penicillin was developed, which revolutionized the treatment of many bacterial infections.  Other antibiotics soon followed, which were effective in treatment of some of the diseases in which penicillin was not.

Penicillin became the treatment of choice for everything in John Q. Public’s mind, and he wanted a shot of it for every conceivable problem including but not limited to snotty noses, ingrown toenails, and common colds. I recall several instances where patients left my office in a huff after I refused to give them penicillin.  Consequently, penicillin and subsequently developed antibiotics were misused, and given even for viral infections for which they were not effective.  Farmers even now feed antibiotics to their livestock to promote growth so we all may be unwittingly ingesting small amounts of these drugs.  There was also the problem of compliance. Often, people would take their medication long enough for symptoms to disappear before all the offending pathogen could be destroyed.  These factors conspired to result in the development of resistance to the drugs in the case of many bacteria. Now hospitals struggle with trying to rid themselves of MRSA and C-Diff for example, and it is said that 20% of all admissions will develop some kind of infection while hospitalized.  Tuberculosis, which had been all but wiped out is now making a comeback—this time in a form which does not respond to available medications.  It seems we consistently underestimate the versatility and tenacity of those little buggers.   They are too small for us to see, yet they continue to adapt and ultimately outsmart us.

Other Viruses: AIDS and Our Response

Viruses such as flu, AIDS, or Ebola to name a few are a different story. They are not affected by antibiotics; although the so called cocktail of meds has been effective in altering the course of AIDS.  Both AIDS and Ebola originated in Africa, and are transmitted to humans through body fluids.  The vector for aids is thought to be subhuman primates (monkey family) and for Ebola, bats.  Both diseases were thought to be contracted by using their respective vectors for food.

The story of HIV is particularly poignant for there was much misinformation, and discrimination. Since AIDS was thought to have been brought to this country by a world traveling airline attendant, who was apparently quite promiscuous.  He is postulated to have infected many other gay men and initiated the epidemic.*  Consequently, fear was coupled with homophobia, and AIDS patients were subject to discrimination both socially and  in the workplace.  This mistreatment and discrimination was the subject of a Tom Hanks movie in 1993 entitled Philadelphia for which he was nominated for an academy award. As the disease spread through the homosexual community, some TV evangelists preached that this was God’s punishment for the sin of homosexuality.

Ryan White was a 13-year-old hemophiliac who contracted AIDS in the early 1980s from a drug transfusion.  Ryan was the first hemophiliac to contract AIDS, which considered a “homosexual disease” at the time. Due to fear of contagion and the fact that the spread of the disease still wasn’t understood, Ryan White’s middle school expelled him. He and his family were shunned.  The case received international attention as the Indiana teenager fought to be allowed to returned to school. “It was really bad. People were really cruel, people said that he had to be gay, that he had to have done something bad or wrong, or he wouldn’t have had it. It was God’s punishment, we heard the God’s punishment a lot. That somehow, some way he had done something he shouldn’t have done or he wouldn’t have gotten AIDS,” said Ryan White’s mother recounting the early days of his diagnosis at ryanwhite.com.

Soon there was a backlash from saner sections of populous, but as is usually the case, the pendulum swung too far in the laudable direction of preserving privacy.

My Experience with the AIDS Backlash

During the early days of the AIDS epidemic, I was called upon to serve on a panel to discuss the problem.  At the time, the medical community was still learning about the virus and how it spread. I had the temerity to suggest that it might be a good idea to use some of the case finding techniques that had been helpful in the past, by adopting procedures to allow health department workers to find those who had been sexually involved with the identified patient.

The rest of the panel jumped on me with a vengeance for even suggesting that we violate an AIDS patient’s privacy by reporting their illness to an agency.  Their reasoning was that even if the agency honored confidentiality agreements, the contact person would know.  I can’t help but wonder if this refusal to use time honored public health measures didn’t contribute to the rapid spread of the disease.  According to the CDC, there are now 1,100,000 people in the  United States who are  HIV positive 20% of whom are women.  40,000 of these people die each year; although admittedly not all die from AIDS alone.  Many are drug users who use dirty needles and some are prostitutes.   In any event those numbers suggest to me that the AIDS epidemic is not over.

Back to Ebola: We Did Know about It and Chose to Ignore It.

Nearly 20 years ago, Laurie Garrett authored a book titled:  The Coming Plague, newly emerging diseases in a world out of balance. One of the chapters was a history of the 1970s Ebola epidemic, and the heroic virologists who were involved in its study.  It was self contained largely because it affected very rural villages at great distances from each other in Africa.  In many of the villages there was over a 90 percent mortality rate.  It was felt that had it affected areas more densely populated, the effects would have been much more devastating.  The investigators realized this organism had not disappeared from the planet and was likely, even surely, to appear again. But the complacency about which Garrett warned in her book set in, and here we are woefully unprepared.  Could a vaccine have been developed?  Who knows?  What is obvious is that there could be little money to develop treatment for a disease when no one had it.  There was also the problem that it was an African disease, and there has always seemed to be some reticence to spend resources on those folks.  Yes, it appears the world is still out of balance.

Will we learn anything from this episode? I am not optimistic.  Ms. Garrett outlined all of the conditions necessary to virtually guarantee an eventual worldwide pandemic and we do little to change that course or to prepare for what will most probably come.  There have been many other lessons never learned.  Bubonic plague is said to have killed nearly 40 percent of all Europeans.  The flu pandemic of 1917-18 killed 50 million people.  There have been major epidemics recorded throughout history.  Not long ago, we were told that bioterrorism was something we must guard against.  Anthrax, which so far has been susceptible to some antibiotic,s was a suspected weapon.  I take little comfort in the knowledge that no longer are any antibiotics manufactured in the United States.  But, not to worry, I am sure that the countries where they are manufactured would be happy to give us the highest priority in getting us what we need in the event of an epidemic whether man made or naturally occurring.

I imagine that there will be books written about all the major screw ups in our attempts to deal with the current crisis.   The question to be answered is what have we learned?

Introduction by Maggie (eshrink’s daughter and official editor of the eshrinkblog: My dad is taking his archeology class seriously. Below is his class assignment. He has decided on a third career…he will be Ohio Smith…leave no outhouse left unturned.

September 14, 2014

Nancy Hamblin, Ph.D

Ohio University

Zanesville, OH 43701

Dear Dr. Hamblin,

This letter is written with two purposes in mind.  First, I wish to thank you for a very enjoyable learning experience under your tutelage, but my second reason is to ask for your expertise in helping me identify a recently discovered artifact.

Since I do recall from my class that context is important in identifying artifacts, let me explain how I came to be in possession of this one.  You may be pleased to learn that as a result of your inspirational lectures, I have decided to embark on a new career.  It is my intention to become Muskingum County’s top archeologist.  I believe that as I expand my sphere of influence in the field I may eventually be addressed as Ohio Smith.

To that end, I contacted a former patient who had told me of his hobby as a bottle collector, and that most of his prizes were found in excavations of the sites of outhouses near abandoned homes.  This person had been referred to me from a diversion program after he had been accused of extorting money from an elderly lady; however he had assured me that this was not true and he was very believable. He was quite gracious, and showed me his extensive collection of Zanesville swirl bottles, which I had been told were quite rare.  He even offered to sell me one at a very reasonable price. When I told him I preferred to make my own discoveries, he was so pleased at my dedication that he offered to sponsor me for membership in the Privy Prospector’s Society of Southeastern Ohio in spite of my lack of field experience.  There was of course a nominal initiation fee and dues, which seemed a bargain for the privilege of being able to consult with a group of experienced privy archeologists.  Sadly, when I later called him back to learn when the next meeting was scheduled, he informed me that the club had disbanded in a fit of jealous rage over his collection of Zanesville swirls, and that the club’s treasurer had absconded with the organization’s funds.

Although disappointed, my enthusiasm was undimmed for I was determined to become a top gun in the field of archeology.  I felt it was appropriate that I begin my quest by probing the sites which had been occupied by outhouses, since few people are old enough to have had as much direct experience as I have had.  As a matter of fact, I have fond memories of summer days in my grandparent’s two-holer (I don’t remember ever seeing both holes used at the same time, but I assume they were for emergency situations).  It was here that I learned to multi task for while performing normal excretory functions I was able to peruse the previous year’s Sears Roebuck or Montgomery Ward catalogs, and catch a glimpse of the lingerie section without being chastised.  Of course the catalogs were there to serve a more utilitarian function, and the glossy pages always seemed to remain after all the others were gone.

My experience was not limited to utilization, for I had been involved in the maintenance and logistics of the facility, which were not as simple as you might think.  Slaked lime was used liberally in order to minimize the odor and discourage flies.  These outdoor toilets came in different sizes and configurations, but were usually built on skids to facilitate moving them when the pit beneath them was nearly full.  A modest one-holer might be only four or five feet square while others were much larger, and more luxurious.  I recall visiting one in which the owner had installed modern toilet seats similar to those still in use today.  I found it to be a very useful innovation as it solved the splinter problem.   Privies  of course were built from wood, some painted and others not.  Although there was a popular metaphor used by some uncouth youth to describe a well-endowed young lady as “built like a brick s…. house,” I don’t believe such a structure ever existed.  Research done in preparation for my first expedition answered a burning question, which had haunted me for years (e.g. why the crescent opening in most privy doors?)  The answer I discovered is that it was a symbol representing the female gender, used in colonial days when it was considered very poor taste for women to use the same facility as men.  The men’s privy was identified by a star.  Apparently the tradition continued long after its symbolism was lost, and men became interlopers.

I vividly recall the day probably 70 or more years ago, when I was drafted by my grandfather to help move the privy.  Of course it meant digging the new pit, and since the soil was quite sandy, lining it with cast off boards from the local sawmill to prevent a cave in.  Precision was required in order to assure proper placement of the building over the pit.  This was made even more difficult by Jack, Uncle Cale’s white mule, who proved to be a recalcitrant participant when asked to tow the privy to its new location.

In those days when to waste was regarded as sinful, that which was unused was burned since there were no waste disposal services.  Therefore, that which would not burn was often deposited in the privy.  This would prove to become a rich source of artifacts for us modern day archeologists.  I realized that privy prospecting was unlikely to lead to discovery of prehistoric artifacts; however I felt the process of discovery was similar in all digs, and the experience would help me develop the skills needed to succeed in my newly chosen field.  I hope you have not been bored with all this information, but I found it necessary in order to establish my bona fides as knowledgeable or even expert regarding the subject of privies.

You taught us the importance of site selection, and I had no trouble with that as I had chosen the two abandoned villages of Irville and Nashport on State Route 146, which were only one-half mile apart from each other. Both were vacated in the late 1950s when the Dillon Dam was built.  Most of the houses in Nashport were moved a few miles west, and the community retained its identity. Although some of the houses in Irville were moved to other locales, there was no attempt to preserve the town itself.

Nashport was founded in 1827 by Thomas Nash who is said to have been a farmer and inn keeper.  His town was built on the banks of the Ohio Canal, which had opened to traffic in the same year.   This marvel of engineering that connected Lake Erie with the Ohio River was expected to stimulate commerce in previously inaccessible portions of Ohio.  Mr. Nash must have felt that his port, midway between the canal’s origin and termination, would be in a strategic location to profit from the boom that was expected to follow.  The success of the canal systems was short lived; however as they would soon be supplanted by the iron horse. The remnants of the canal are still visible. As a matter of fact, in my childhood, portions were populated by huge carp that I unsuccessfully shot at with bow and arrow.  I do look back fondly on those times spent on my Grandparents farm situated on the edge of Irville.

Nashport was also the site of an Adena Indian mound, which is listed on the National Registry of Historic Places.  It stood behind Salty Settles General Store and had been plundered by souvenir hunters long before my time. I understand it was explored by professional archeologists in 1975, but am not aware of the yield.  Another larger mound could be seen from my Grandfather’s back yard. It sat atop the area’s tallest hill overlooking the valley.  I am told it has subsequently been discovered, but I am not aware if it has been excavated.  Collection of Native American artifacts (I am trying to be politically correct ) was considered the province of boys in those days, and we were often able to find arrow heads and spear points by following the breaking plow as it turned the furrows.  A couple of days later the arrow would be dragged over the ground to break up the furrows and this could be even more productive.   As you can imagine, finding one of these artifacts was sure to provoke feelings of wonder as to how it got there and what or who had been the target.

I have been unable to find any written history of Irville, and the only evidence of its existence is the cemetery that bordered the farm. My ancestors from at least three generations are buried there. However, there was a great deal of verbal history to be had in the back of Charley Railey’s General Store.  There was always a group of older residents who assembled six nights a week around the pot belly stove to discuss every subject imaginable, except for politics, which had been declared off limits do to the fact that the one democrat in the group tended to become belligerent in such debates.  My acceptance as an adolescent into this group was probably due to my rapt attention as they told stories about “the good old days.” I suspect they enjoyed an audience for already much of what they had learned from their parents was no longer relevant in a culture in which a burgeoning technology no longer relied on the color of the wooly worm to predict the weather

These loafers as they were called provided some verbal history of Irville.  In addition to the stories about various pranks perpetrated in their childhoods, they had much information about the village going back to the early nineteenth century; although they could not recall specific dates.  For example, Joe McCann said that the Nether’s house had once been a stagecoach stop and later was a stop on the Underground Railroad.  Others confirmed this was what had been told to them by their parents and furthermore they agreed that there had once been a tunnel under the road leading to a sister house on the other side of the main road to the village so that fugitive slaves could move from one house to the other to avoid the slave chasers.  Although all were aware of the mound in Nashport, they knew little of the natives who had originally inhabited the area.  I do recall talk of how arrow heads were so plentiful as to not be considered novelties.

With this background information in mind, I now set about to: 1) establish my goal for the dig, 2) decide upon the exact site, 3) procure the proper equipment, and 4) get appropriate permission, as per what I learned in your class. I felt that I would be able to finance the dig independently, which would allow me to proceed without delay.  My goal was to look for artifacts dating back to the canal days. Consequently, it would only make sense that I concentrate on the Nashport area and the area closest to the old canal bed.  As for equipment, I had a pick and shovel in the garage, a trowel, and several old paint brushes.  I did require a visit to the hardware store to buy a machete like instrument that the clerk told me was designed to clear brush.  I was unable to find a pith helmet, but a tour of the local Goodwill store turned up a well used felt hat, a near replica of the one worn by my hero Indiana Jones.  My only major purchase was for a metal detector, as I was confident that tin cans and other metal objects would likely have been discarded when the privies were moved. The area I planned to excavate was owned by the Muskingum Conservancy District so I asked a neighbor who happens to be a County Commissioner for permission to dig, and he said he didn’t care, but warned me to stay away from the Indian mounds.

Finally the preparations were complete and I set off on my virgin dig with great hopes that I would be able to contribute to the history of the region. I soon found that things change a great deal in a half century or more, and I spent a good bit of time searching for landmarks.  The bucolic countryside of my youth had become an overgrown forest, and was now virtually impassable except for occasional paths used by fishermen on their way to the lake.  The old road through the village was still visible and I was finally able to identify the steps to the Methodist church, which I had climbed many times often under duress.  From there I was able to proceed westward to where I thought the canal had been; although this section was not visible.  I found cutting through the thick brush and briars quite exhausting, and had no hits except for an occasional beer can.

As I was about to give up for the day, I entered a vine covered clearing and my metal detector suddenly came to life. I felt certain  I must have hit the mother lode.  Sure enough, my trowel immediately struck metal on the first thrust. And I was soon turning up rusted cans from only a few inches below the surface.  There were also many unidentifiable glass shards, and one intact “mason” jar inside of which was the artifact in question.

As you can see from the accompanying photograph, the object is about 7 inches long with a wooden handle attached to a pear shaped weighty end. Initially, I thought the bulbous end of the object must be stone because of its weight; however its texture is very smooth, there is crazing on the end of it and I since have noted a very small figure 9 where it is joined to the handle.  All this suggests to me that it is ceramic. The handle is perfectly round as if turned on a lathe.  It is made of a very dense hardwood with an irregular grain suggesting it came from the burl probably of a maple tree.  The narrow end is blackened in spots, but these areas do not have the appearance of having been charred, but rather look like some type of stain.  There are also a few spots of a white substance which can be scraped off with the fingernail.

Although this is obviously not a prehistoric artifact, I am hopeful that it may prove to be related to the history of the canal. It does not appear as something that would be effective as a weapon, and seems much too small to be used as a metate.  If you have any ideas or can suggest references which could help in its identification, I would be most grateful.  I was forced to leave the site prematurely after noting the vines in the area were poison ivy. I plan to return to complete the excavation when my recuperation is complete.  In the tradition of archeologists past and present I will not be deterred by assaults on my body by a hostile environment; consequently I did manage to make a brief visit to spray the area with weed killer.  I look forward to hearing from you if your busy schedule permits.

Respectfully,

Darell Smith MD

Letter #2

Dear Dr. Hamblin,

You will be pleased to learn that I have been able to complete the identification of the artifact. I am well on my way to full recovery of the dermatitis venenata with the help of massive doses of corticosteroids, and was able to return to the site of my excavations.  Research regarding the poison ivy revealed that it can still be dangerous after it is killed; therefore I needed to take special measures to prevent another disabling rash.  The protective clothing was a bit uncomfortable since the temperature almost reached ninety degrees, but I remained determined to find the answer to the mystery of the Nashport artifact.

To that end I set to work and after several hours of careful excavations came upon 3 small pottery shards which appeared to be of the same material as the end of my artifact. They were nearly ½ inch thick, and when put together indicated they had been part of a small round dish which I estimated must have been about 5 inches in outside diameter.  There was some staining of the inside of the shards which appeared to be a match to those seen on the handle of my artifact.  Thus I concluded that this instrument had been used as a kind of miniature metate, but was much too small to have been useful as a tool for grinding grain.

The next layer uncovered produced an intact glass bottle with a ground glass stopper which would prove to unravel the mystery for I immediately recognized it as an apothecary bottle of the type used in medical facilities a hundred or more years ago.  It then dawned on me that my artifact had been used to compound medications, was a pestle, and the shards part of the mortar.

There had only been only one medical facility in Nashport, and I was dumbfounded to realize that I was beginning my Archeology career in the same place where I had begun my life as I realized this must be the site of Dr. Welles’ hospital. Dr. Welles was a beloved family physician who had added a couple of rooms to his office in order to deliver babies in a state of the art facility rather than in the home.  I was apparently one of his first deliveries there, and I am told my father, a truck driver at the time, participated by administering ether during the delivery. Dr. Welles subsequently committed suicide, but I deny any responsibility.   My last visit to Dr. Welles’ replacement was for treatment for a spiral fracture of the humerus sustained when attempting to mount Jake Davis’ draft horse by jumping from a fence post.

There was no doubt in my mind that fate had played a role in choosing a site for my first dig. Thank you for choosing not to respond to my first letter, as I take that as your confidence in me to solve the problem.

Respectfully,

Darell Smith MD