Tag: Pennsylvania

AI-o AI-o It’s Off to Work I Go

by earlthepearl137

I’m currently working on a stage play about President Buchanan called Buchanan: A Rock Between Two Hard Places.  It takes place at Wheatland, his former mansion, but now a tourist location in Lancaster, Pennsylvania.  The situation shifts back and forth from 1863, when the Southern Army is in Gettysburg, Pa, just across the river from Lancaster, Pa.  to the present day when a group of tourists are taking a guided tour of the house.  They go from room to room and the modern group tells the story of the Buchanan administration, while in 1863, ex-President Buchanan is trying desperately to convince his niece, Harriet Lane, that she should evacuate Lancaster for a place further away from the war.

The tour group debates the issues of the Buchanan administration and his standing in history.  Most either don’t know much about Buchanan or have a low opinion of him (based partly on the short video they watched prior to starting the tour), but one Franklin & Marshall student taking the tour is a big fan of Buchanan.

That’s what I entered into Bing Copilot, Microsoft’s entry into the AI market.

This is what I got back:

Copilot:

Your stage play, “Buchanan: A Rock Between Two Hard Places,” sounds intriguing! The juxtaposition of historical events and the present-day tourist experience at Wheatland creates a captivating narrative. Let’s delve into the layers of your play:

  1. Setting and Structure:
    • Wheatland, once President Buchanan’s mansion, now serves as a tourist attraction in Lancaster, Pennsylvania.
    • The play oscillates between two critical time periods:
      • 1863: The Southern Army looms near Gettysburg, just across the river from Lancaster. Ex-President Buchanan grapples with convincing his niece, Harriet Lane, to evacuate to a safer location.
      • Present Day: Tourists explore Wheatland, moving from room to room. Their discussions weave the story of the Buchanan administration.
  2. Tourist Debates:
    • The modern-day tour group engages in lively debates about Buchanan’s legacy. Their opinions are shaped by a short video they watched before the tour.
    • Most visitors either lack knowledge about Buchanan or hold a dim view of his presidency.
  3. The Buchanan Enthusiast:
    • Amidst the skeptics, a Franklin & Marshall student stands out—a staunch Buchanan supporter. Their admiration for the ex-President adds an interesting dynamic to the play.
  4. Buchanan’s Dilemma:
    • In 1863, Buchanan faces the weighty decision of ensuring Harriet Lane’s safety during the war. His desperation to convince her to leave Lancaster underscores the urgency of the situation.
  5. Historical Context:
    • Buchanan’s presidency was marked by challenges, including the impending Civil War. His actions during this critical period continue to shape his reputation.
  6. Title Symbolism:
    • The title, “A Rock Between Two Hard Places,” aptly captures Buchanan’s predicament—caught between historical forces and personal relationships.

As you craft your play, consider exploring Buchanan’s complexities, the impact of war, and the enduring questions about leadership and legacy. 🎭📜

1: Exploring the writer’s perspective: Between a Rock and a Hard Place – Aron Ralston 2: Between a Rock and a Hard Place: Teaching During COVID 3: James Buchanan: A Rock Between Two Hard Places

I did a double-take.  Or more like a triple-take.  Did Bing Copilot just use as its 3rd reference an article I wrote myself on my own blog.  It sure did. I’ve become the “go-to guy” on the subject of James Buchanan.

Here’s that original blog, in case you’re curious.

James Buchanan: A Rock Between Two Hard Places

november 5, 2018 by earlthepearl137

Usually when historians are asked to rate the U.S. Presidents, they put James Buchanan at the bottom.  I think this is very unfair.  He was a very good President, who just happened to be elected at the very worst time in U.S. history.

The country was on the verge of Civil War when he was elected in 1856.  Abolitionists in the North desperately wanted to crush slavery and the South along with it.  Secessionists in the South were afraid of the dire consequences they would have to face if slavery, which had legally existed in America for 200 years, was outlawed and 4 million negroes were suddenly free to take merciless revenge on their masters.  Buchanan had to use everything he learned during his forty plus years of public service to keep the powder keg from exploding, and he managed to do so.  Then the election of Abraham Lincoln lit the fuse, and all Hell broke loose.

Rather than acknowledging Buchanan’s peace keeping efforts, both sides immediately blamed him for the war.  Though Buchanan had strong sympathies for the South, he was also a strong Unionist and, for the sake of the preservation of the Union, he had to endure the lies that were spread about him by both sides.  He didn’t want to further incite the South, so he couldn’t level blame on them for seceding, and he didn’t want to cast aspersions on the new President during wartime by blaming Republicans and Abolitionists for driving the South to secede.  He was literally a rock between two hard places, and for the sake of the Union had to take the abuse that was heaped on him without defending himself.  His silence only caused both sides to increase their level of abuse until his reputation was utterly destroyed.

He did not wish to stand idly by, though, and he wrote his memoirs to correct all the lies that were being spoken and printed about him.  He loved his country so much, though, that he refused to publish his defense until the War was over.  Then the Civil War dragged on and on for years and by the time he published his memoirs in 1866 it was already too late to save his reputation.  History had already painted him as the villain, and he knew that a century would have to go by before his name could ever hope to be cleared.  Unfortunately, a century and a half has gone by, and historians still fail to give him a fair trial.  I’m sure they feel that removing blame for the Civil War from Buchanan would force them to place some of the blame on Abolitionists and Lincoln, and that just ain’t gonna happen.  Lincoln had already been made into a god.  After all, Lincoln freed the slaves, and he was the victim of an assassination.  He’s one of the four Presidents on Mount Rushmore.  His place in history was literally and perpetually carved in stone.  So, Buchanan has to continue suffering “the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune.”  Maybe, it will be another century before James Buchanan can get a fair hearing with historians and escape the bottom ranking…unless, of course, if Donald Trump continues the way he’s going.

Our representatives are chosen in free elections.  The best way to get good representatives in government is for the people to study the issues, study the candidates, and be sure to vote.  Tomorrow is Election Day.  Vote wisely.

Peace & Love, and all of the above,

Earl

James Buchanan’s Birthday PartyApril 26, 2020In “James Buchanan”

Ten-Cent JimmyFebruary 21, 2022With 1 comment

The Royal TreatmentJune 3, 2019In “Buchanana Park”

tagged james buchananedit”james buchanan: a rock between two hard places”

AI continued to use articles I wrote as reference material.  I was both flattered and impressed.  I decided to keep going with the AI, just to see how much more it could help me.  James Buchanan became the President in 1857, the same year that the S S Central America sank in a hurricane leaving 450 men dead and 21 tons of California gold rush gold lying at the bottom of the ocean.  I read all about it in a book called, The Ship of Gold at the Bottom of the Deep Blue Sea.  Captain Herndon was the captain of the S S Central America.  When he knew that the ship would eventually sink, he got all the men on board busy bailing out the incoming water while he transferred lifeboat after lifeboat of the women and children to the nearest ship to them, the Marine, captained by Captain Johnsen.  Captain Johnsen rescued 100 passengers.  Some 50 passengers who were floating on flotsam and jetsam from the ship were later rescued by a Norwegian ship, Ellen, which was passing through the area.

I asked AI about the incident.

Among other things, AI told me that President Buchanan gave a gold chronometer to Captain Herndon in recognition of his heroism during the disaster.

Wait a minute.  Captain Herndon was swimming in Davy Jones locker, and certainly not available for any medals ceremony in Washington, D.C.

AI lied to me, and I knew it.  Dead men get medals, but they don’t appear at medal ceremonies.  I also knew from reading the book that President Buchanan actually issued the golden Chronometer to Captain Johnsen, the live captain of the rescue ship, Marine.

So, my point is that AI is an incredible tool that can help just about everyone with just about everything, but it won’t hesitate to stretch the truth a bit for the sake of a good story.  It’s my kind of ap.

By the way, Captain Herndon was recognized for his heroism with a 21-foot-tall Granite Monument at the Naval Academy in Annapolis, Maryland.  Every year the first-year students celebrate the end of their first year at Annapolis by climbing to the top of the monument.  And every year the senior class puts about 50 lb. of grease on the monument to make it a lot more interesting.  The story of the Herndon Climb is another thing I learned from AI, and, of course, I fact-checked it. Maybe on James Buchanan’s birthday, April 23rd, I’ll see if I can get some Franklin & Marshall students to grease Buchanan’s statue in Buchanan Park and we’ll see if anyone can climb it.

Peace & Love, and all of the above,

Earl

Earl’s Wearld

by earlthepearl137

I’ve Been To The Mountain Top And I’ve Seen The Promised Land.

I just got back from a trip to Johnstown, PA for my Aunt Jane’s 85th birthday.  Brother X rented a car for the long drive, and I went with him and his wife, Mrs. X.  For those of you who are new to Earl’s Wearld, Brother X is not a term of disrespect for one of my two brothers.  It is, instead, a way to respect his desire for privacy.  My brother Kevin does not share the same desire to remain anonymous, so he is always mentioned by name whenever he appears in Earl’s Wearld.

Anyway, it’s about an 8-hour trip to Johnstown, a long car ride, up, over, through, and around mountains, and I started off the car chat by talking about religion.

“I read this blog that Atheists and Agnostics like myself don’t have the same sense of community that religious people like you have.  So, because we don’t believe in any religion, we’re actually missing out on a sense of community, which is a necessary nutrient, kind of like a vitamin.  What do you think?”

He pulled over.  “I think you should sit in the back seat.”

So, I switched seats with Mrs. X, and she got back into the shotgun position.  I did a little reading while I chuckled to myself in the back seat.  We were off to a good start.  Brother X and I have been busting each other’s horns on Johnstown trips for about 60 years now.  I scored first this time.

“How many ties do you think we’ll see at the party?” I inquired to re-engage the conversation.

“None,” he quickly replied.

“Eighty guests, half of them men, so that’s 40 men,” I mused.  “If one out of ten wears a tie that’s four.”

“I’ll take the under,” he stated quickly and emphatically before I could move the line.

“Okay, you’ve got the under,” I said, glad that I had brought a tie, and hoping there would be a bartender or two wearing a tie.  Now, I wish I had brought more than one tie.  I would resort to wearing a couple at the same time to beat Brother X.

Brother X and I are very competitive.  He doesn’t like to lose to anybody.  His motto is, “Show me a man who is willing to lose, and I’ll show you a loser.”

My motto normally is:  “You win some.  You lose some, and some get rained out.”  But when competing against Brother X, it changes to “You win some, you lose some, but not to him, not today.”  It’s called sibling rivalry.

When we made this trip with our parents, they tried a million things to keep us from saying a million times, “Are we there, yet?”  We looked for license plates from all the states.  We played guessing games like 20 questions and we had visual scavenger hunts where we had to find something that began with an “A” then something that began with a “B” all the way to “Z”  I often tried to count a black and white cow as a zebra.  Brother X would already have used them under “D” for Dalmations and “G”, for Giant Dalmations.

We went past Hershey, PA, and remembered when we stayed there during the Regan administration.  We went to Hershey Park, where I got a picture of myself face-painted like a bumblebee next to a more-lifelike-than-the-original cardboard cutout of Ronald Regan.  I also remember that the motel where we stayed had a pool and busloads of born again Christians.  That’s where Brother X’s daughter got a Baptism of a different kind.  She learned how to swim.  She and her brother went on to win many medals in swimming while they were in school, and that was where it all started.  Kumbaya.

We had other roadside attractions along the way, too.  Guess how many cops would be in each tunnel we went through.  This was a very popular game in the Hudson Tunnel until the opening of the Verrazano Bridge altered our route years ago.  In Pennsylvania we still had a few tunnels that went right through mountains.  There aren’t as many nowadays, so I guess the road moved.  I doubt that the mountains did.

There was a house near the highway in Carlisle, PA that had a big bear sculpture on the lawn.  My mother loved that bear, so the first one to spot it would yell, “Mommy’s Bear.”  We saw it and it actually looked bigger than we remembered it.  Not many things from your childhood look bigger when you are an adult, so I think they replaced the original bear with a bigger better one.

Then there was Davy Crockett’s house.  It wasn’t really, but we always believed it was, because it was a log cabin and my father told us that it was Davy Crockett’s house.  The next log cabin we saw was Daniel Boone’s house.  We always expected to see Fess Parker sitting on the porch of one of those cabins.

There’s a spot at the top of one of the mountains where you can see three states, and a whole bunch of cities, counties, and towns.  The number get magnified every trip.  This year when we got to lookout point, I said I could see “5 states, 40 counties, 23 cities, 52 towns, 3 planets and the sun.”

The first traffic sign that says Johnstown is another landmark.  When we see that sign we always make the same bad joke, “Windber 24, Johnstown 32.  Johnstown beat Windber again by the same score.”  Twenty something miles later we would see the actual sports stadium where Johnstown played Windber every other Thanksgiving, in the historic years when my mother was growing up in Western Pennsylvania.

This year we had something new on the trip – GPS.  Isn’t that technology just amazing?  And the girl never once lost her temper no matter how many times we made her recalculate.

We arrived in Johnstown early Friday evening and met up with Uncle George and the Ohio relatives who pulled in the same time we did.  Then we did the same thing we do on every trip to Johnstown.  Eat, Drink, Laugh.  I also learned from my Ohio relatives that some people text CTM for Chuckling to Myself when something is funny but not LOL funny.  If I had known that earlier I could have used it.

I only did one thing that I never did before in Johnstown.  Since everyone else had a part to play in the ruse to keep Aunt Jane from finding out about the party, on Saturday afternoon, I wound up babysitting Debbie’s son Matt’s 4-year old daughter, Mackenzie.

Many years ago, I dogsat for a motorcycle cop in Port Washington, who took his wife to a week-long motorcycle cop convention.  Back in 1990, I did some dogsitting for my ex-wife in Florida, when she planned to return to college.  I dogsat Dog X whenever Brother X and his wife were out of town and couldn’t get somebody more reliable.  And in the past year I spent some time Daddysitting my father before his passing, but this was the first time in I don’t know how long that I was babysitting for a baby.  I turned on the TV hoping that Barney or something like that was on.  Head-to-Head Texas Hold-em Poker was on.  I was fine with that, but even though it was the semi-finals, Mackenzie wasn’t interested.  So we played with the toys in her doll house at Grandma’s house.

To save myself the trouble of repeatedly running to fetch things for her, I quickly taught her to pretend the couch was magical, and I could do anything if I was sitting on it.

“If we’re going to feed the baby, we need milk.  Go get some milk,” she said.

“Okay, let’s pretend that I’m pouring milk.”  With great flourish, I faked pouring milk from an imaginary pitcher into the tiny plastic baby bottle.  She loved it, so anything she wanted me to do after that, I just sat on the magic couch and pretended to do it, and she was happy.  Too bad I didn’t know this trick when I was married.

A short while later, her Daddy showed up.  I had successfully babysat for almost an hour.  That’s going on my updated resume!

It was a surprise party for my Aunt Jane and her daughter Debbie was charged with getting her there.  Debbie usually does all the photography, while her husband Barry does the DJ thing, complete with laser lights, mirror balls, fog machines, and speakers that require a small crane to be lifted into place.

So, since Debbie wouldn’t be able to film the grand entrance, that job was left to me.  Actually the video camera was on a tripod and already pointed at the door.  All I had to do was hit the record button.  My biggest problem was deciding which title I should use.  Was I a Video-ographer.  Or should that be videographer with just one “o”?  I told everyone that I was the official video-ographer, because it sounds funnier.

I’ll make the next story about the great party and my Pennsylvanian relatives, but this story is more about the journey, so let’s get back on the road.  Suffice it to say that I was the only one wearing a tie.  Brother X won that round.

We had taken the southern route to get there.  We took the northern route home, since we had a stop in Beacon, NY, to see X’s son, who teaches there.  After we were on the road for a short time, we saw a sign Jersey Shore, 22 miles.  We wondered about that.  I just looked at a map and saw that the name of the town was named Jersey Shore.  We weren’t anywhere near the ocean.

We also went by another town called The Promised Land.  I guess they were being very optimistic when they named that place.

On one stretch of road there were a lot of white-barked birch trees, and I remember that my brother had gone to a place as a young child that was called the Camp of the Birches.  I remembered that there had been a problem and he had to leave early, but I forgot what the problem was.  He told me that it was a camp for Jehovah’s Witnesses and my parents who were both strict Catholics pulled him out as soon as they found out.  They weren’t fast enough for my little brother though.  He already learned all the words to “Jesus loves the little children of the world.”  CTM

When we crossed the border from Pennsylvania to upstate New York, we remembered that our family used to vacation there at a place called the Hillside Inn.  If you saw Dirty Dancing, you can think of The Hillside Inn as Kellerman’s for goys.

We dropped off the stuff they wanted to drop off at their son’s place, took a few moments to unwind, and were back on the road.  A couple miles before we got to my house I reprogrammed the GPS for their address, so every turn towards my house caused the GPS to recalculate.  I thought that was funny.  CTM funny, not LOL funny, but funny.  Brother X and Mrs. X didn’t.  Give that round to me.

Now that the trip is over, I’m recalculating something myself.  I realized the answer to the question I asked my brother at the beginning of the trip.  We Atheists and Agnostics may not have religious ceremonies and traditions to enjoy, but we can have our own ceremonies and traditions to give us some warm-fuzzies, too.  All we need to do is pay closer attention to our family and friends.

Going to Johnstown is one of the nicest traditions my family has.  I can’t wait until the next trip. Only, next time I’m bringing more ties.  CTM

Peace and Love, and all of the above,

Earl