Saturday, May 31, 2025

"Riddle of Fire" is like a modern Ruth Manning-Sanders fairy tale

Last night, Ashar and I watched Riddle of Fire, a quirky and utterly delightful 2023 film written and directed by Weston Razooli. It's hard to describe or shoehorn into a genre, and I strongly suggest that you don't watch the trailer before seeking it out for a viewing. The trailer gives away too many of the plot's twists and fun moments. 

The best way I can describe Riddle of Fire is that it's as if you took the structure and offbeat logic of a Ruth Manning-Sanders fairy tale and applied it to a 2020s children's movie made to look like something filmed in the 1970s or early 1980s. There's a group of plucky children, a quest for a necessary item, obstacles, villains, magic, side quests, plot twists and loads of wry humor. The "logic" of the film, such that it is, could be described as the tale you'd hear if you asked a long-winded, sugar-fueled 10-year-old to spin a harrowing adventure involving a group of kids battling the world of comically mean-spirited adults.

I love how Austin Shinn described it on Bluesky in early May: "I love trying to explain Riddle of Fire. It’s a 70s/80s neogrindhouse movie except it’s a kids movie and it’s trying to evoke those bizarre indie films that would blow through small towns and play matinees and make zero sense and feel like a kid wrote them. It’s amazing"

One reviewer on IMDb.com hit the nail on the head, too, in stating that movie reminded them of "the films produced in the UK by the Children's Film Foundation." Yes! That struck a chord with me. There's DNA from 1976's The Man from Nowhere in this movie, even if Razooli has never seen that.

But the movie Riddle of Fire most reminded of — and this is extremely specific to a Gen X kid who watched the same half-dozen films over and over on cable in the early 1980s — is The Little Dragons. That 1980 movie (crazily enough, one of the first directorial efforts of Curtis Hanson) features a pair of karate-student brothers who are out of their element when they go camping with their grandfather, but suddenly find themselves in an adventure as they try to rescue a girl from a group of bumbling backwoods villains. It would probably make me wince today, and it only has a 4.3 rating on IMDb, but the overall vibe is similar to the retro feel Riddle of Fire achieves with great success. It's a movie that's lived in a tiny cubbyhole in my brain for decades. ("Souffle" is a good alternative cuss word, according to actor Charles Lane.)

Now, go watch Riddle of Fire.

A letter my grandmother mailed to me 33 years ago

This week I came across a short letter that my grandmother, Olive Virginia Hartford Otto (1914-2006), mailed to me during my junior year at Penn State University in 1992. Snail mail was still in its heyday then, though the end was getting close with the rise of email.

Bambi, as my sister and I called her, lived in a small apartment in Easton, Pennsylvania. My first two jobs after I graduated from Penn State in 1993 were in Gettysburg and York, so I was able to drive up and see her a few times per year in the mid 1990s. We had quiet, relaxing visits. She sat in her rocking recliner and we'd watch The Lawrence Welk Show, Hee Haw, Walker, Texas Ranger and lots of pro bowling and golf.

Her February 12, 1992, letter, in fairly neat cursive, is interesting. Here's an excerpt:
Dear Chris –

Thank you for your letter. You sure are kept busy. Haven't been doing much. ... The country is a mess. Pappy and I went thru it in 1935. He only worked 3 days a week. He went from door to door selling Bleach. So I know what hard times are.

I can't believe that it is 2 months today that Pappy passed away. I sure do miss him. 

Are you watching the Olympics? I enjoy the ice skating. How about Mike Tyson? He was a nice guy. His attitude was very bad. ....

I'm going out for a walk and will mail this to you. Take care. I love you.

Always,
Bambi

Tuesday, May 27, 2025

Travel diary downsizing stress

As family members passed away, I came into possession of the world travel diaries of:
  • My great-grandmother: Greta Miriam Chandler Adams (1894-1988)
  • My grandmother: Helen Chandler Adams Ingham (1919-2003)
  • Mom: Mary Margaret Ingham Otto (1948-2017)

They've been taking up a fair amount of space in a drawer. But I really must continue downsizing, and what am I supposed to do with them? It's kind of overwhelming and stressful, to be honest. (And, yes, I know this is a First World Problem.)

A big issue is that much of Greta's and Helen's handwriting is nearly indecipherable to me. And that's saying a lot, because I've prided myself on deciphering the old cursive handwriting on many postcards and other pieces of ephemera over the years for Papergreat. I could probably decipher most of it eventually, but I'm not sure if it's worth the work, and I'm not exactly swimming in time. This may be unfair, but 90% of it is along the lines of "Seas were calm today," "Had lunch with a nice couple from Topeka" and "Walked around the city and bought a pair of shoes." Going through pages and pages and pages of that is not how I envision my days. On the other hand, though, it's family history.

I'm going to try my best to sort through them, keep just a handful, and put the rest on eBay as a bulk lot. If the diaries can make someone else happy and I have less STUFF in drawers and closets and boxes, I think that's a win-win. 

In the meantime, here are some photos from the sorting ...
In the end, I went with about a 50-50 split, with half of the travel diaries going onto eBay (below, left) and the others going back in the drawer for now (below, right). I'm OK with that as progress. I'm keeping all of Mom's and among the others I'm keeping is a travel diary Greta kept in the summer of 1915, when she was just 21 and had much better handwriting. That will be well worth reading, I think.

Saturday, May 24, 2025

QSL from Honduras: Cinco Niñas Lindas Copanecas

It's been nearly four years since I wrote about one of the QSL cards mailed to Melvin Reed of Frackville, Pennsylvania. See below for the full list of past posts about Reed and his QSLs.

Today, it's time for another! This is a unique one, for which we don't know a whole lot about the sender beyond basic details. It's HR5NLC, from Noe Leopoldo Cruz in Santa Rosa de Copán, Honduras. It was mailed in March 1966 and the front of the card is what's most interesting to me. The text states Cinco Niñas Lindas Copanecas, which translates to Five Beautiful Copan Girls. Indeed, there are five illustrations of women from Santa Rosa de Copán with 1960s hairstyles. Is one of them Noe?

Atop this illustration are the postmark and the Honduras stamp, which commemorates the Honduran participation in the 1964 Summer Olympics in Tokyo. See the full sheet below. 

That's about it. I can't find anything else about Noe Leopoldo Cruz or Cinco Niñas Lindas Copanecas, beyond the fact that Noe appears in the 1989 and 1993 amateur radio callbooks (under call sign HR5NC in both instances, a change from HR5NLC — and because I'm slow on the update I just figured out that NLC must stand for Noe Leopoldo Cruz).

I hope that someone with an interest in Santa Rosa de Copán and/or ham radio history might stumble upon this blog post and provide more information! And I'm happy that I was able to preserve this QSL card for posterity.
Previous posts about Melvin Reed and his QSLs

Wednesday, May 21, 2025

Callous Facebook advertisement for a Chernobyl air humidifer

I've seen and heard a lot in my 54½ years, so it's hard to shock me. But I did a disgusted double-take when advertisements for a Chernobyl nuclear power plant air humidifier began showing up in my Facebook feed. 

"Where history meets health," states one advertisement.

"From disaster to delight," states another.

In 1986, the Chernobyl Nuclear Power Plant, located in what is now Ukraine, exploded and caught fire during a routine test that went catastrophically wrong due to a critical reactor design flaw. Deaths eventually totaled in the thousands as radioactive contaminants spread across Europe and the Soviet Union.

How many thousands? That's a difficult question to answer, given the uniqueness of the disaster, the complication of tracking radiation across a vast area, and the reality of long-term health effects that take years to emerge. The conservative scientific estimate is that between 4,000 and 16,000 deaths can be directly attributed to Chernobyl. Other assessments that cannot be lightly dismissed put the death total as high as 90,000.

And those are just the human deaths. No one, to my knowledge, has attempted even a ballpark guess on the number of animal deaths.

But, hey, from disaster to delight, right?

Also, more than 300,000 residents across three countries were permanently displaced due to deadly radiation levels.

Here are passages about Chernobyl, then and now, from the 2021 book "Islands of Abandonment: Life in the Post-Human Landscape," by Cal Flyn:
  • "In the immediate aftermath of the nuclear accident, there was a huge spike in ionizing radiation. But many of the radioactive elements released were highly unstable. They self-destruct, sometimes in seconds. Others over weeks. The most feared product of nuclear fission, in terms of its health impact, is iodine-131, which is easily absorbed by the body. Iodine-131 is stored in the thyroid, where is emits harmful beta radiation, damaging flesh in the immediate area or causing either the gland's destruction or, in lower doses, cancer. (At least four thousand cases of thyroid cancers among the children of Belarus, Ukraine, and Russia have been attributed to the radionuclide's effect.)"
  • "Seventy percent of the [Chernobyl exclusion] zone is now forest. Pripyat is the territory of the birch and the maple and the poplar, and their leaves lie in a thick litter on the tarmac, branches bare and colorless  but for the globes of green mistletoe and the mustard lichen that mists their bark. Matted shrubs crowd their lower reaches, flecked with the red points of rosehips gone soft. Ivy weaves between their legs. Apartment blocks rise like concrete islands from a sea of green. The trees are standing too close, crowding doors and blocking windows, growing in tight against the walls."
  • "It is the most radioactive environment on Earth. These radioactive hinterlands are the consequences of human folly, hubris, of deaths made with the devil."

So, yeah, let's not support crap like this humidifier. We can be better.

Sunday, May 18, 2025

Greye La Spina, "The Gargoyle" and Spinnerstown, Pennsylvania

Greye La Spina (1880 – 1969) is notable for being one of the relatively few women whose horror and fantasy writings were published in pulp magazines during the first half of the 20th century.

She wrote mostly short stories, but also serials, essays and a couple of novels. Her 1937 essay "On Scaring Oneself into Conniptions" was published in Science-Fantasy Correspondent, according to the Internet Speculative Fiction Database. And I cite it today because it's the first-ever appearance of the word "conniptions" on Papergreat.

"[La Spina] published an incredible number of stories — as many as 100 in a bunch of different genres, including men’s adventure, horror, women’s magazines, etc. In her prime, she was more successful than H.P. Lovecraft, and was very important to the early years of Weird Tales magazine. Readers loved her and clamored for new stories by her. And then, after she stopped writing in the early 1950s, people started to forget her," Michael W. Phillips Jr. told Paul Semel for a 2023 interview posted on Semel's website. 

Phillips had just edited Fettered and Other Tales of Terror, a collection of La Spina's works. You should definitely check out all of Semel's interview with Phillips, which goes into great detail about La Spina's writing career.

Before 2023's Fettered and Other Tales of Terror, others tried to keep La Spina's work in the spotlight over the decades. A significant part of that effort was today's featured 1975 paperback, The Gargoyle. It includes the 1925 serial The Gargoyle and the 1932 novella The Devil's Pool. The book measures 5½ inches by 8½ inches and features a compelling cover illustration by Vincent Napoli (1907-1981).

If you're already intrigued, there are copies on eBay, as of today, for as low as $20. I'm holding onto my copy, because, despite my ongoing downsizing, it's too cool to give up for that low of a price.
This book's publication was the work of (and clearly a labor of love for) Robert Weinberg (1946-2016). According to Fancyclopedia 3, Weinberg was a member of the fanzine community with a huge interest in pulp magazines. That interest led to some big things: "In 1968, Bob began publishing readers guides to the works of H.P. Lovecraft and Robert E. Howard, eventually expanding both to book length and publishing additional guides and books about the pulp magazines and the authors who wrote for them. 1973 saw his publication of WT50, an anniversary tribute to Weird Tales, a magazine to which Bob would acquire the rights in 1979 and help revive. He was editor-in-chief of Arkham House from 2009–16."

For Weinberg's publication of The Gargoyle, the copyright page notes that both of the included stories were reprinted with the permission of Celia La Spina (1900-1982). (She was born Celia Geissler, the daughter of Greye La Spina and Ralph Geissler. After Ralph Geissler died, Greye married Robert La Spina, Baron di Savuto, an Italian aristocrat. According to Geni, Celia married Eduardo La Spina, her stepfather's brother.)

The copyright page also notes that the front cover illustration (Napoli) and lettering (Andrew Brosnatch) are from "the collection of Robert Weinberg." Officially titled The Gargoyle and One Other, this was #3 in Weinberg's series of "Lost Fantasies" and sold for $5 in 1975.

Here's a passage from "The Gargoyle" that perhaps helps to explain why it's subtitled "A Tale of Devil Worship":
"Against this background stood, at irregular intervals, great white crosses before which were sculptured figures in black, figures that made him shudder with uncontrollable horror at their repulsive and abhorrent ugliness. It seemed as if the human imagination had here attained the climax of revolting, horrific distortion and deformity in sculpture and pictorial art. Not a statue, not a painting, but showed the human face and form in such revolting deformity as to send sickly shudders through the observer's sinking frame. The purpose of this ghastly place was obvious ...

"The red light shining everywhere now attracted Luke's attention. It originated in a crystal sphere, hung on almost invisible chains in a shrine just back of the altar."
* * *
One of the niftiest things I came across is that Greye La Spina spent a signficant portion of her life in rural Pennsylvania! An article in the March 10, 1946, edition of Allentown's Sunday Call-Chronicle is headlined "Greye la Spina, Weaves Weird Tales And Tapestries, Finds Life Is 'Fun' Amidst Solitudes of Spinnerstown."

Spinnerstown (new to me!) is a census-designated place in northwest Bucks County. It has a hotel that's been in operation since 1811, and one of the notable (and regrettable) incidents in the hamlet's history is that a massive, 400-year-old chestnut tree was blown up with dynamite in 1919. 

According to the Sunday Call-Chronicle article, La Spina moved to Spinnerstown around 1926, "seeking solitude and peace in the Pennsylvania countryside after the turmoil of life in Brooklyn." 

I love the article's summary of how La Spina's writing career began: "[In 1920] she suddenly got the urge to write down some of her observations on the occult. 'I decided to write a werewolf story, so I sat down, dashed it off and sent it to Street and Smith. They liked it, and wrote me asking for more.'"

She told that newspaper that she planned to remain in Spinnerstown, despite concerns regarding a theory that the East Coast could be turned into a swamp by rising oceans. (My thought: She may have been reading too much Edgar Cayce.)

She also planned to stay there because, in her words, "I have a one-legged cat-bird who comes and sings in the garden. I don't know what happened to his other leg, but I should hate to leave him."

No animals left behind is a sentiment I can get behind, too.
Stubby seemed like the best housecat to pair with this book. It should be known, though, 
that this particular black cat likes belly rubs and purrs very loudly at meal time.

Saturday, May 17, 2025

Saturday's postcard: Bucolic Valldemossa on bucolic Mallorca

Nearly 13 years ago, I did a "Saturday's postcard" post on Mallorca. Here's another. Part of the beautiful village of Valldemossa is pictured on this mid-century postcard, which appears to be hand-colored. "Foto Casa Planas" is listed in the publisher's spot on the back of the card, and the caption indicates that we're looking at "La Cartuja y Palacio del Rey Sancho." To us, it's the Valldemossa Charterhouse, which, as Wikipedia explains "is a palace in Valldemossa, Mallorca that was royal residence of the king Sancho of Majorca and later Royal Charterhouse (15th century) of the Carthusians." It's also known, I believe, as the Royal Charterhouse of Jesus of Nazareth.

The postcard was mailed to Union (probably Union Township), New Jersey, in mid-October 1957, shortly after Lew Burdette, Hank Aaron and the Milwaukee Braves defeated the New York Yankees in the World Series, 4 games to 3.

The cursive note is dated October 15, 1957, in Palma de Mallorca and states*:
Hello Folks
Left Barcelona by ship, took 14 hours to get here. The Valents and I are enjoying the excursions to all points. This is the monastery where Chopin spent many years composing. It is way up in the mountains near the shore. Most beautiful view, but then this whole island is wonderful. It is 100 kilometers from point to point in any direction. Loads of tourists: English, German, French, few Americans. 
Love, Cecilia
*The handwritten message contained a frustrating lack of capital letters and periods, so I did some light fixing.

Wednesday, May 14, 2025

When H.R. Haldeman essentially predicted the world of today

One of my bedtime browsing books these days is 1980's The Book of Lists #2. It's amazing how much of it I remember from the early 1980s afternoons when I read page after page in the attic of the house on Willow Street in Montoursville. I'm also coming across things that meant little to me then, but are pretty cool now, such as Grace Kelly listing Marie Dressler as the greatest actress of all time, or Susan Kelz Sperling advocating for words such as bedswerver, bellytimber, merry-go-sorry, mubblefubbles and smellsmock to return to our daily lexicon.

Anyway, I was a bit gobsmacked when I read the passage pictured above in the David Wallechinsky-penned list "6 Outrageous Plans That Didn't Happen."

Citing the 1979 book The Shadow Presidents: The Secret History of the Chief Executives and Their Top Aides, by Michael Medved, the passage discusses an early 1970s idea by H.R. Haldeman (President Richard Nixon's chief of staff) to create something remarkably similar to the internet as we know it today by linking up all the homes in the United States. "There would be two-way communication. Through computer, you could use your television set to order up whatever you wanted. The morning paper, entertainment services, shopping services, coverage of sporting events and public events," Haldeman is quoted as stating.

Wallechinsky adds speculatively: "One can almost see the dreamy eyes of Nixon and Haldeman as they sat around discussing a plan that would eliminate the need for newspapers."

Of course it was newspapers, most notably The Washington Post, that brought them down.

It wasn’t until a quarter-century after Haldeman’s early 1970s notion of an interconnected digital world that those ideas began to come to fruition. Haldeman died of cancer in 1993 and, near the end, he may well have been aware of the early 1990s rise of dial-up internet and web browsers and those soon-to-be-ubiquitous AOL CDs. The transformation was underway. A decade later, newspapers began to feel the deeply unfortunate pain of the internet's rise ...