Thursday, December 28, 2023

push bike

Every picture tells a story, season 3, picture 11:

We have seen various horses in this series and some cars, but not very many bikes. So I'm very grateful for this rural idyll with mother and daughter (Martha Stephan and Hedwig Geppert) pushing one. As they got separated on eviction from Silesia and were only reunited in 1953, this must be in the mid-1950s in Westphalia, near the village of Vardingholt, where Martha had landed in 1946 and Hedwig joined her later.

Note that both women were quite short (Hedwig measured 160 cm, Martha 147 cm, according to their ID cards), so the bike appears too big for either of them to ride, maybe it belonged to whoever took the photo? We know that Hedwig started using a moped late in life.

Should anybody have any answers to some of the many questions I am raising in this series, please leave a comment here (I'll need to vet it, so it may take a few days before it goes public) or contact me at michaelgrr [at] yahoo [dot] co [dot] uk

Navigation tools:

Season 3 so far:

  1. family holiday
  2. play time
  3. fashion show
  4. bakery to butcher's shop
  5. the Hamborn brotherhood
  6. all grown up
  7. sisters in the snow
  8. the last holiday
  9. village life
  10. family reshuffle
  11. push bike

The Mastodon thread for season 3 is here.

You can find Season 2 entries in this thread on Mastodon (complete now!) or via the list at the bottom of the last entry of the season (and also at the bottom of the first entry of this season).

The twitter thread for season 1 is still here. Alternatively, visit the last instalment and find the numbered list of entries at the bottom.

Thursday, December 21, 2023

bilingual East Prussians

A few things I learned from

Paradiesstraße
by Ulla Lachauer
3rd ed. 2001

This book I discovered randomly at Oxfam recounts the memories of the farmer Lena Grigoleit (1910-1995) from Bittehnen on the river Memel, which was part of East Prussia when she was born, then of Lithuania, then Soviet Union, now Lithuania again. Lachauer discovered her as the only surviving resident of the village from East Prussian time – and also a very enthusiastic story teller, so this is how this remarkable book came into being.

I bought it mainly because I know far too little about East Prussia (birthplace of my dad and half my grandparents-in-law), so I thought every little helps. Luckily, there wasn’t too much about agriculture and quite a lot about the fascinating bilingual / bicultural situation of the area known as Preußisch-Litauen or Lithuania Minor. So here’s what I learned about that (if you look it up on German Wikipedia, you’ll find Lachauer’s book cited as a source too):

We’re talking roughly about the northern third of East Prussia as it was before 1918 – of which the bit beyond the river Memel (including Bittehnen) was cut off after the Versailles Treaty. So that area always had a mix of Lithuanian and Prussian population, with the farming villages typically being more Lithuanian and the towns more Prussian.

Map of northern parts of East Prussia showing the spread of Lithuanian culture. The area shown in the deeper shade of green on the right bank of the river Memel, represents the highest proportion of Lithuanian speakers. It is nearly identical with the area that was cut off from East Prussia in the Versailles Treaty and put under French administration, then annexed by Lithuania. The dashed line marks the limits of the southernmost church districts using Lithuanian in their services. Alternatively, the outline of the district of Gumbinnen can be used as a definition of Prussian Lithuania. The area south of the Memel roughly to the bottom edge of the map is today in the Kaliningrad Oblast, Russia. Map from Wikipedia.

A noteworthy detail for family history is that the area was depopulated by a plague epidemic in 1709-10 and then systematically resettled with people from western Germany, Austria, Switzerland and the Netherlands, with the Prussian offer of freedom of religion being a pull factor. Many came from Lithuania too, gaining their freedom from tsarist serfdom in the process. Note also that the Prussian Lithuanians were protestants, whereas those living under Russian rule and today in independent Lithuania are typically catholics. This cultural divide meant that Prussian Lithuanians, while keeping their separate cultural identity, were happy to support the German Empire and didn’t generally strive to reunite with the Lithuanians on the Russian side.

In the rural environment, Lithuanians were free to keep their language and cultural traditions, and the church services were typically held in Lithuanian too. As the towns were speaking German, and industrialisation happened far west in the Ruhr area, any move away from the farm would require speaking German. After 1871 the newly formed empire raised the pressure on adaptation a bit, and the Lithuanians wrote very polite petitions asking if they could please keep a little bit of school tuition in their language, but it all stayed very civilised and the culture only declined very gradually, in line with the shift from rural to urban life.

In 1910, the year Lena Grigoleit was born, the last census recorded around 100,000 East Prussians naming Lithuanian as their first language. After that, the peaceful and remote life of Lithuania Minor went through the shredder of 20th century history, and nothing survived – apart from the one person who, miraculously, was still around in 1990 to tell her story.

Some links to the relevant East Prussian inlaws previously mentioned in the Every picture series, they all lived near the southern border of the Prussian Lithuanian zone shown in the map:

1:14 a patchwork family in East Prussia (this family is most closely linked to the Lithuanian theme as the mother's maiden name was Domscheit, which is a Lithuanian name, but sadly we don't know anything about her language and culture background)

1:15 the missing grandmother Auguste Adschuk

1:25 Auguste at the bottom of the steps in Allenburg (a different Auguste this time)

1:26 a forester's family

1:33 a lost generation

2:19 patchwork portraits

by contrast, my ancestors only spent a decade in East Prussia, you can catch glimpses of this story in my entry about Königsberg in the Lost Cities series. Other places relevant to this story are Zinten (Kr. Heiligenbeil, now Kaliningrad Oblast) and Bischofsburg (Kr. Rößel, now Poland), neither of which is near Prussian Lithuania.

Tuesday, December 19, 2023

fountains of youth

Promises of eternal youth and immortality have united quacks, frauds and gullible paymasters since ancient times. To this day, ageing research is haunted by dubious efforts. The intense interest also means, however, that we can learn interesting things about how and why we age, and maybe even how to stay healthy for a little bit longer. Which is why I agreed to do a feature on this field even though I am very sceptical about it. Here's my original (mildly sceptical) intro which was edited out:

The fountain of youth, as depicted by the Renaissance artist Lukas Cranach the Elder in 1546 (see below), has a very simple operation mode. Frail, elderly women enter the rejuvenating pool from the left of the painting, and after a refreshing bath they emerge on the right hand side as young ladies, eagerly awaited by noble knights.

Scientific research in the centuries since hasn’t quite succeeded in making this imaginary treatment happen in the real world, but the task has attracted a lot of research effort from alchemists through to modern scientists, and an inordinate amount of media coverage.

A recent, widely reported effort, the idea that the kinetic isotope effect could slow down deleterious reaction if only our food and drink was spiced up with deuterium, the heavier isotope of hydrogen, may serve to illustrate the fundamental problem of most such ideas. Even if this anti-ageing diet works, it will be prohibitively expensive, so the net effect will be to give billionaires even more time to count their assets, while most of the world population will continue to die prematurely of avoidable causes.

Thus, in the real world, Cranach’s fountain is poisoned by the narcissism of those who think they can buy a ticket to escape mortality, and the scientists who are willing to serve them. Nevertheless, there is a lot of interesting biology to be explored in the question of why and how we age, and a better understanding of the whole complex process, if applied fairly, might just help to enable more people to live healthier lives for a bit longer.

The Fountain of Youth, an oil-on-panel painting produced in 1546 by Lucas Cranach the Elder.
Source: Wikipedia (they have a huge file if you want to zoom in - I used a smaller size.

Happily, the rest of the feature is now available here:

Forever young

Chemistry & Industry Volume 87, Issue 12, December 2023, Pages 30-33

access via:

Wiley Online Library (paywalled PDF)

SCI OPEN ACCESS and also includes additional media not shown in the print version.

As always, I'm happy to send a PDF on request.

Monday, December 18, 2023

cockles and mussels

... not only share the title of a folk song, they are also both bivalves, which is the topic of my latest feature. Considering that bivalves including mussels, clams, scallops, oysters and such like are omnipresent in cultural history, we still know surprisingly little about some important aspects of their biology. Accordingly, I have rounded up some things we are still learning from them, from underwater adhesion through to mirror optics.

The resulting feature is out now:

Learning from bivalves

Current Biology Volume 33, Issue 24, 18. December 2023, Pages R1263-R1265

FREE access to full text and PDF download

See also my Mastodon thread where I highlighted all CB features of 2023.

I'm not on Instagram myself, but I believe if you follow CurrentBiology there, you'll find my features highlighted there as well.

I wrote a few lines about Botticelli's very famous painting The birth of Venus but didn't include a picture of it in the article, so I'm showing it here instead. Image: Wikipedia

Saturday, December 16, 2023

double bass revisited

I had double bass lessons with a rented instrument between age 16 and 20, but haven't had access to a bass since. When it emerged that Cowley Orchestra owns a bass in need of rehousing, I offered to look after it, so now, for the first time in nearly 40 years, I get the chance to play bass on a regular basis.

First impressions: this thing is bloody big and heavy - I must conclude that the instrument I played way back when was a small size version. I am told 3/4 basses are now quite commonly used even in serious orchestras, but they are only a few centimetres shorter. So it is quite possible that the music school rental instruments were 1/2 sized ones. There wasn't a choice of size, I remember they had a whole row of identical ones. The big one also takes some serious amounts of energy to play, so I'm only doing something like ten minutes a day right now.

I don't want to confuse my cello-sightreading brain by reading bass, so I am on the lookout for easy tunes that I know already and that sound nice in the bass register. A first example is the German carol Maria durch ein Dornwald ging, of which I have made a very rough video, just as a first impression of the sound of this bass:

inspired by the Berliner Blockflöten Orchester who do it much better, of course.

For something a bit more lively, Bella ciao would be an option, but watch this space. Might try an ironic rendition of Silent night too. And unless a real bass player steps up to use this instrument at orchestra, this month may well mark the beginning of a bass period in my zodiac of instrument obsessions introduced last month.

Thursday, December 14, 2023

family reshuffle

Every picture tells a story, season 3, picture 10:

Let's go back to the family portrait with the fowl from season 2 (I'll include a copy of the photo below to make things easier). It showed Maria Mentzel, mother of Heinrich the cellist, presumably between 1913 and 1916, with select members of her family, and a chicken in her lap. After posting that one, I discovered another family portrait taken in the exact same spot, with mostly different people, and the bird replaced by a baby. This photo is dated 1916:

Compare and contrast with the one I shared earlier:

Most clearly recognisable from the earlier photo is Liesel Güde, wife of Maria Mentzel's first son Arthur Reim (from a previous marriage). She's standing on the left, then we have (I think) Robert Goetzky, then his wife Gertrud (Maria's daughter, who was also in the earlier photo), then Gertrud's brother Heinrich the cellist, then a mysterious grey-bearded man, and an equally unknown boy. What's worse, I don't recognise the woman holding the baby (nor the baby, for that matter).

Maria Reim, daughter of Artur and Liesel, was born in August 1915, so that could conceivably be her, maybe with a nanny? Alternatively, Gertrud and Robert also had a daughter as their first child at some point after getting married in 1908, and I don't have a birth year for her, so that could be her as well. But I think Maria Reim is the more likely answer. We've seen her as an adult in the earlier entry, too, and I think the baby's look is vaguely compatible with the adult's.

Maria Mentzel died in April 1916 at Magdeburg, which is where the Goetzky family lived, so I am guessing that the house in the background is their home, and that the family may have gathered on the occasion of Maria's funeral. For all I know, the bearded chap and young boy could be her relatives, I don't know of any of hers outside the immediate ancestry and the descendants mentioned.

Should anybody have any answers to some of the many questions I am raising in this series, please leave a comment here (I'll need to vet it, so it may take a few days before it goes public) or contact me at michaelgrr [at] yahoo [dot] co [dot] uk

Navigation tools:

Season 3 so far:

  1. family holiday
  2. play time
  3. fashion show
  4. bakery to butcher's shop
  5. the Hamborn brotherhood
  6. all grown up
  7. sisters in the snow
  8. the last holiday
  9. village life
  10. family reshuffle

The Mastodon thread for season 3 is here.

You can find Season 2 entries in this thread on Mastodon (complete now!) or via the list at the bottom of the last entry of the season (and also at the bottom of the first entry of this season).

The twitter thread for season 1 is still here. Alternatively, visit the last instalment and find the numbered list of entries at the bottom.

Friday, December 08, 2023

all about the bass

It emerged recently that Cowley Orchestra owns a double bass, which had been lent out to members of another orchestra and forgotten about. Now it has been returned and as I vaguely remember I had double bass lessons for a few years, forty years ago, I offered to host it until we’ve figured out what to do with it. Conceivably, if any bass player came to Oxford without a bass, they could borrow it and hopefully play with us on Wednesdays.

So, well, the instrument looks like this (adding bass-holder to the many uses of a cajón):

and it came with a whole bag of sheet music and learning material like this one copyright 1949:

Some of these are marked and dated by Captain E. W. Geidt who lived in Bradmore Road, North Oxford, with dates between 1957 and 1961. I am told that he used to move the double bass around in a wheelbarrow and that his daughter also played with Cowley before my time, so either of them appears to have donated / bequeathed the instrument to us. The internet seems to think EW stands for Edward Wollaston, but as these are also the middle names of the eponymous ethics advisor to a disgraced former prime minister, we’ll just have to call the bass “the Captain”.

The instrument looks in good shape for its age, and appears to be well made and still solid throughout. There are even purfling-style inlays running up its neck which look like a luxury feature to me:

I am not quite happy with the bow though, which appears to be breaking up:

and the frog is too small for the German-style bow hold which I prefer. The green book shown above calls this style the Bottesini bow and the kind I used way back when the Dragonetti bow, adding that the latter "is not much used in this country."

Other accessories that came with it include a very lovely home-made wooden spike holder:

as well as five packs of rosin probably dating from as many different decades, guarded by a dead beetle (could be a maybeetle/cockchafer, not sure?):

I tried playing a few lines of the Simandl etudes which I played a lot back in the days, but realised it’s pretty exhausting, so I guess I won’t try to play this at orchestra …

Here it is then, waiting for a more energetic player and just about fitting in the cello corner (the cello found space in a different corner):

Thursday, December 07, 2023

village life

Every picture tells a story, season 3, picture 9:

During the second world war, young mother Ruth (the botanist we saw here) and her little boy moved in with her parents in Königsberg. When it became clear that the city might not be safe, she moved west to the village of Hahnenbach, where her aunt Johanna had built the house we've seen earlier. In fact, she made this move twice, first in July 1941, but soon after that her brother died and she was called back to help in her father's factory at Königsberg, gave birth to her daughter there, and then moved west again in August 1943. That back-and-forth doesn't change much of the story, as both moves were uneventful and in good time. Considerable amounts of furniture safely arrived in the west. Her aunt's health and alleged need of support served as an excuse, as fleeing East Prussia wasn't really allowed.

So from the city of Königsberg they arrived to village life, glimpses of which we see here:

That's Ruth walking behind the wagon with her son by her side, as he looks quite young still, this may have been as early as the autumn of 1943.

The Hahnenbach fire brigade conducting an exercise by the eponymous river.

And Old Lina (Carolina Weirich, 1871-1951), from the village inn run by several generations of her family (Weirich / Giloy). If I have my ducks lined up correctly, Lina was a second cousin of Ruth's mother and of her aunt Johanna, who came to the village because of this family connection.

Should anybody have any answers to some of the many questions I am raising in this series, please leave a comment here (I'll need to vet it, so it may take a few days before it goes public) or contact me at michaelgrr [at] yahoo [dot] co [dot] uk

Navigation tools:

Season 3 so far:

  1. family holiday
  2. play time
  3. fashion show
  4. bakery to butcher's shop
  5. the Hamborn brotherhood
  6. all grown up
  7. sisters in the snow
  8. the last holiday
  9. village life

The Mastodon thread for season 3 is here.

You can find Season 2 entries in this thread on Mastodon (complete now!) or via the list at the bottom of the last entry of the season (and also at the bottom of the first entry of this season).

The twitter thread for season 1 is still here. Alternatively, visit the last instalment and find the numbered list of entries at the bottom.

Monday, December 04, 2023

snake toxins

I have a feeling I did a feature on protein toxins in the early days, maybe 20 years ago, but couldn't find it. So I guess it was about time to revisit this field, which is a bit scary but also fascinating.

My feature is mainly about the evolutionary arms race between venomous snakes and their prey species, but I also included a shoutout for other toxic vertebrates including frogs, birds, and of course the duck-billed platypus. Read all about them:

The venom menace

Current Biology Volume 33, Issue 23, 4. December 2023, Pages R1209-R1212

FREE access to full text and PDF download

See also my Mastodon thread where I highlighted all CB features of 2023.

I'm not on Instagram myself, but I believe if you follow CurrentBiology there, you'll find my features highlighted there as well.

Sequence studies show that the three-finger toxins produced by elapid snakes like this banded krait (Bungarus fasciatus) all evolved from a membrane protein that lost its anchor. (Photo: Rushen/Flickr (CC BY-SA 2.0 Deed).)

Friday, December 01, 2023

the tongue of the Sun

la lengua del sol

a film by José Luis Gutiérrez Arias, starring Flavia Atencio, Raul Mendez
Mexico 2017
(DVD with bad English subtitles available from HMV)

I am a sucker for the kind of chamber play that juxtaposes two humans in a room, like Room in Rome and En la cama, so here’s a third movie to compare these two with (or a fourth, if I include Now and Later). Like the earlier Chilean film En la cama, we have a hetero couple, but many other things reminded me of Julio Medem’s Room in Rome (if only because I’ve watched that one more often than the Chilean film).

The story is an entirely different one, as our Mexican characters face the end of the world (apparently expected to come from a ginormous solar protuberance, hence the title of the movie), but the elements shared with Medem’s film include the interlude of a third person knocking on the door, dramatic scenes in the bathroom, attempts at singing (more successful in Rome), and a similar tragedy in the backstory of one of the characters, as well as various gaps in what biographical information they are prepared to share.

On the end of the world side of things I appreciated the light-heartedness with which the protagonists (most of the time) make the most of the time that remains. Not having a future can liberate you of worries – even though the element of fear is also expressed. As our civilisation seems to be hell bent on self destruction, I am sometimes feeling that lightness too – doesn’t matter too much what we eff up now, as everything is effed up wholesale and for the next few centuries anyhow. The slightly esoteric plan they're hatching in the last part of the film reminded me of the famous aphorism the German science writer Hoimar von Ditfurth (1921-1989) used for a book title, which goes along the lines of "if I knew the world were to end tomorrow, I would still plant a little apple tree today."

All in all it's a very lovely and charming little film, which I'll happily watch again once I've had a chance to revisit En la cama and Now and Later. The question remains how this obscure Mexican no-budget film from 2017 ended up on the UK high streets in 2020 even though, of course, it hadn’t been released in UK cinemas. My theory is that some marketing genius realised that in a way it is about people in lockdown, so very timely for 2020. Which would also explain why after we left the lockdowns behind, the DVD is now sold for next to nothing.

HMV