Archive for July 2024
Alis victoriae
Wednesday
– photo by Mitch Waxman
‘Wings of Victory’ is what today’s Latin title translates to, and it’s the name of a fantastic aviation museum group which flew two WW2 era aircraft to the 1931 vintage Allegheny County Airport, found in Pittsburgh’s West Mifflin section. The airport is built on top of a steel industry slag heap, as much of West Mifflin is. Wings of Victory were offering public facing tours of their equipment, which drew me in.
My neighbor Dwight turned me onto the outfit’s presence here in town, so I checked their website and schedule, and drove over to the airport to buy a ticket for the ‘ground tour.’
The price for that was supposed to be $15, but I think that the lady at the till figured me for a senior citizen because of the gray beard, and only charged me $10. Hey, maybe this ‘crazy old bastard’ thing isn’t just all terrifying doctor’s appointments, after all.
There’s discounts!
– photo by Mitch Waxman
Taking a ride in a plane this old just ain’t in the cards for me, as I’m fairly unlucky – and certainly not at $500 a seat – which is what the ‘air tour’ cost. Yikes. The ground tour ticket led me onto the deck at the airport, where the two museum planes awaited. They are both still in working order, I’d remind.
There was a B-17 Flying Fortress (above), and a B-25 Mitchell.
– photo by Mitch Waxman
The B-25 is one of several reasons that many people around the world rue the day that someone in their government decided to start a war with the United States. It’s the same model of the planes (developed under the command of General Billy Mitchell) that the American Military had designed the ‘Doolittle Raid’ around, which struck the Japanese home islands with a surprise bombing experience that occurred in April of 1942, and was led by Lt. Col. James Doolittle.
This was just the beginning of a vulgar display of industrial prowess which led first to the Battle of Midway, and then the 1944 emergence of the B-29 Superfortress aircraft (which carried massive fire and explosive bombs, and then the Atom Bombs) just a couple of years later.
The physical embodiments of ‘eff around and find out,’ American style.
Lessons learned by a nervous world, afterwards, included the idea that when a giant is sleeping you don’t antagonize it unduly.
– photo by Mitch Waxman
Part of the ‘ground tour’ involved being able to actually enter the plane’s interior and do a walk through. Observationally, the crews on these planes were rather skinny fellows of small stature.
I realized that I was way too fat and old to have defended my country in the Second World War very quickly. You climb a few steps on a normal ladder, and then get down on all fours inside for a quick crawl to an internally installed step ladder that takes you into the ‘neck’ of the craft. The pilot and radio operator’s area was off limits, but I managed to crack out a couple of zoomed in shots.
This one was gathered on the B-17, btw.
– photo by Mitch Waxman
The B-17 was clearly the crowd’s favorite, and had the longest line to get onboard. There were Grandparent and Grandkid combinations all over the place, and the kids in particular were going nuts over all this excitement – especially with all the machine guns which were arrayed all over the things.
Some of the folks from the Wings of Victory outfit were telling tales and reporting history, and it seems that both planes saw action in the European theater of WW2.
The B-25, in particular, was one of only about thirty survivors of the model which can still fly.
– photo by Mitch Waxman
I got on the line to check out the B-17’s interior, which was pretty cramped within, truth be told.
Shots of the B-25 will be on display tomorrow.
Back then, with more.
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Corrumpere meum braccas
Tuesday
– photo by Mitch Waxman
The Latin title above roughly translates to ‘crapping my pants,’ which is what I was doing while on my way to an eye doctor’s appointment.
Last time around with this particular doc, the conversation included him saying ‘well, you’re lucky that it’s not affecting your vision yet.’
Between the first appointment and this one which Pittsburgh’s Blue Line T light rail was carrying me towards, I had described the diagnosis to another doctor – a Cardiologist – during a checkup earlier in the month. A rather amiable and cheery guy, as far as heart specialists go, he said ‘oh, no problem, I’m just going to adjust your prescriptions’ so just let me know what happens.
A word of advice that I can offer any of you – lords and ladies – regarding the medical establishment, is that you need to transmit your tales to them in some excruciating detail. You are the only connective thread and there is no master file which they refer to. When you are sitting in the paper robe on the bench, the ‘must’ is to transmit the totality of everything you’ve got going on – from the Dentist to the Podiatrist – and you need to do it quick.
I’ve got a 5-7 minute sum up of everything that’s ever happened to me, going back to a tonsillectomy inflicted when I was a six year old, but already quite humble, narrator.
– photo by Mitch Waxman
As an aside, the tonsil thing still stays with me, in dreams.
Back in 1973 Brooklyn, it was still common for Doctors to operate out of a private house, and to maintain operating theaters therein for minor procedures. I cannot ever forget having my child head strapped down to a gurney on Farragut Road. A wire meshed mask, with a layer of cotton fitted onto it, was placed over my nose and mouth. Next, Ether was poured from a brown bottle into the cotton, and the world went away until I woke up in the back of the old man’s Plymouth.
I complained about my sore throat in the car on the way home. I was told to suck it up, and that it was stupid for me to think that surgery wouldn’t hurt, and that I should get used to pain because ‘you were put on this earth to suffer.’ Oh, that Mother of mine… so nurturing…
At Waxhaus, my grandmother soon arrived and mixed up some ‘banana mush’ for me – since she knew that’s what Magilla Gorilla would want in such circumstance, and that I kind of had a Magilla Gorilla ‘thing’ going on at the time. (…I later learned the ‘mush’ was milk, sugar, and a banana that she had squished up with a fork…)
The medical condition in question is something which I’m keeping the specifics of to myself, but the worst case scenario stemming from it involves the retina in my right eye being damaged – beyond repair – and blindness springing up in the organ.
– photo by Mitch Waxman
Speaking strictly as a visual artist – ARGGHHHHH. The only good news would be having a reason to wear an eye patch – which I could definitely pull off mind you – but I really enjoy binocular vision, and the eye I squish the camera against is the one in question, so… ARGGHHHHH.
I was early, as is my habit. Needing a place to sit down for a few minutes before crossing the breech, I spotted a park bench. It just so happened to be on the property of St. Thomas More RC church, but that’s just a coincidence, it was just directly across the street from the medical office building. I wasn’t praying or anything, as a note, just trespassing.
In the end, the Ophthalmologist told me that the condition had lessened in severity since our last meeting, thought to be in no doubt due to the intervening changes in medication which my Cardiologist had instituted. See what I mean about cogently reporting your story to the Docs? It helps in keeping people from sticking hypodermic needles in your eyes.
Back tomorrow, and back to the usual folderol.
“follow” me on Twitter- @newtownpentacle
Buy a book!
“In the Shadows at Newtown Creek,” an 88 page softcover 8.5×11 magazine format photo book by Mitch Waxman, is now on sale at blurb.com for $30.
Sicut ambulans hic
Monday
– photo by Mitch Waxman
Before you ask, the Latin title above means ‘I’m walking here.’ See, I just saved you a Google. I’ve included latin titles this week to make it seem like I’m better educated than I actually am, but it’s all just a ‘Fugazi.’ Often, I’ll intentionally create the impression that I’m dumber than I actually am by mispronouncing words. I’ll say ‘spahtoolah’ instead of ‘spatula,’ as an example. In reality, my intellect is best analogized as being an institutional beige/gray wall with a badly framed picture of a kitten on it which bears the motto ‘What, me worry?’
As you may recall, last Friday’s post ended with a humble narrator mid walk and heading down the roughly 12 stories of ‘City Steps’ that the kids call ‘German Square.’ Well, the kids of the 1920’s at least, but they likely referred to themselves as ‘Kinde’ back then.
My return to this installation was initiated by wanting to impact all of those muscle groups which I had strained and sprained on my first outing – the front of the thigh, sides of the knee, the ligaments between, and those calf muscles which reach down into the top of the foot from the shin, the entire lower back. This is a really good workout for those particularly hard to reach areas, and the views are sick.
– photo by Mitch Waxman
My inexorable march would lead to one of Pittsburgh’s Light Rail or ‘T’ stations, where I’d board a train and ride out to its terminal stop in South Hills Village – which is a shopping mall complex of some size. It’s not exactly pedestrian friendly where I was heading, and my journey was cloaked in fear and loathing. A Doctor’s appointment awaited me, which was set to address an ‘out of nowhere’ medical condition which has recently asserted itself.
The fear and loathing part involved the nature of the practice itself, which is Ophthalmology. Last time that I visited the Optician to update my glasses prescription, the Doc spotted something worrying and advised me to climb up the eye doctor food chain to a ‘retina guy.’ The retina guy confirmed the condition and after a thorough examination, ordered me to return on the very day these shots were captured, for further examination and possible treatment.
What’s the treatment, asked I?
– photo by Mitch Waxman
Hypodermic injection into the eye, said the doc. ‘Don’t worry,’ he continued, ‘we’ll anesthetize you.’ I needed to be anesthetized right there, after hearing about that nugget of nightmare fuel.
My friend Steve Bissette (the legendary cartoonist and illustrator) offers a lecture, periodically, which traces the roots of horror in graphic narrative, and presents an overview that begins with the invention of the printing press and passes though the lurid ‘EC comics’ era of the 1950’s, and into the modern era. He categorizes several motifs that have always gotten a rise out of people during this talk.
One is the ‘hand mutilation motif,’ and there’s also the ‘eye mutilation motif.’ Both thema offer a visceral and instinctual reaction from the viewer – it’s deep down monkey stuff.
Thoughts of the ‘Zombie 2’ Lucio Fulchi film (content/trigger warning on that link) thereby assumed a front and center position in a humble narrator’s mind, during the month long interim between my first visit and the one scheduled for later in the day.
Paroxysms of anxiety erupted within, but all I could do was to keep on walking. My fate was binary – it would be ‘either’ or it would ‘or.’ Given that I had zero agency to affect things one way or the other… I couldn’t worry about things outside my control.
More apprehension, and raw existential terror, tomorrow.
“follow” me on Twitter- @newtownpentacle
Buy a book!
“In the Shadows at Newtown Creek,” an 88 page softcover 8.5×11 magazine format photo book by Mitch Waxman, is now on sale at blurb.com for $30.
Doom walking
Friday
– photo by Mitch Waxman
Good news is that I don’t seem to be going blind, or at least not yet. Bad news is that I have to go back to the Ophthalmologist again in August to confirm that. During this walk, the binary of whither or won’t was ruling my thoughts.
There’s all sorts of things going on behind the scenes here at Newtown Pentacle that I don’t really like to discuss with the outside world, I’d mention. I’d much rather tell you what kind of a jackass I am, or describe the psychic torments I inflict upon myself instead of discussing the many existential issues which have popped up in my late 50’s. Maybe even just chatter on about what sort of media I’m consuming.
To wit: Having finished a listen of Mike Duncan’s ‘History of Rome’ podcast’s 179th episode, I considered jumping right into Lars Brownworth’s ‘12 Byzantine Rulers’ podcast, but decided to stay in Western Europe, for Mr. Brownworth’s ‘Norman Centuries’ instead. I’ll likely rewind back to Constantinople afterwards.
– photo by Mitch Waxman
This section of Pittsburgh is called the South Side Slopes, and it’s defined by how steep the grade of the land is. An accommodation installed on those steep hills are sets of municipal or ‘City Steps.’
It has been a couple of months since I scuttled through here, and surmounted the ‘German Square Steps,’ and that was my goal for the afternoon before heading over to the light rail station and catching a ‘Blue’ Line T, which would drop me off within a couple of blocks of my doctor’s appointment.
– photo by Mitch Waxman
I’m so old now that Joe Biden is only 24 years older than me. Holey moley.
More next week from the steps pictured above, and a special treat will be coming towards the end of the week which I’m pretty excited to share.
My Doctor’s appointment worked out well, and the diagnosis wasn’t terribly grim after all as my potentially horrific situation seems to be resolving itself. Doesn’t mean I’m not a jackass and that everybody doesn’t hate me, though. Really, I’m just the worst.
Back next week.
“follow” me on Twitter- @newtownpentacle
Buy a book!
“In the Shadows at Newtown Creek,” an 88 page softcover 8.5×11 magazine format photo book by Mitch Waxman, is now on sale at blurb.com for $30.
Dispassionate observation
Thursday
– photo by Mitch Waxman
An errand had carried me out the door quite early in the morning recently, and I found myself killing time between that task and my next ‘have to’ by sitting in the car and talking on the phone with My Pal Val, who’s back in NYC. Suddenly, I said ‘have to hang up, train coming,’ and jumped out of the Mobile Oppression Platform to capture the shot above.
Depicting a Canadian Pacific locomotive engine operating along CSX’s Mon tracks, the shot above is what I got. If you’re reading this, Val, there you go.
– photo by Mitch Waxman
The next afternoon, on another fairly warm day, one was negotiating the streets of Allentown on foot. Said community is found amongst the South Side Slopes region. I had left the car at home, and used a cab to get from HQ to here. It’s only a couple of miles, but the hills are ferocious and I’d have to cross a major traffic interchange on foot otherwise, which would frankly be a death defying feat of courage.
As always stated – my physical cowardice is vast, and I must be the least courageous exemplar found amongst all of the living males in these United States. Not wanting to freeze up and or then start crying out of terror and fear, I took a cab.
– photo by Mitch Waxman
‘It’s all downhill from here’ is an oft retreated phrase of mine, one which all of my friends from NYC dreaded hearing, since it was usually followed by a ten mile death march through an industrial zone. Literally true in this case, this is the apogee of the steep hill upon which Allentown nests, and I’d be heading downhill. There used to be an incline found right in the middle of the shot above, as a note, but it was demolished well before my birth. C’est la vie, huh?
I actually had a limited amount of time allotted for this walk, as I had to attend a Doctor’s appointment, several miles away, later on in the day. I left the car at home as my eyes were going to be chemically dilated to aid in the medical personnel’s examination thereof, and having already made the mistake of trying to drive home after a prior dilation… I’d be calling another cab to return to HQ. There’s a big difference between the dilation effect of an Optician’s chemicals versus the absolute ferocity of an Opthamologist’s formulation.
Back tomorrow.
“follow” me on Twitter- @newtownpentacle
Buy a book!
“In the Shadows at Newtown Creek,” an 88 page softcover 8.5×11 magazine format photo book by Mitch Waxman, is now on sale at blurb.com for $30.
The Newtown Pentacle 