Apkārt Alaukstam

First held in 1984, the Apkārt Alaukstam (around Alaukst) is a 15 kilometer ski race circling Alaukst Lake in the central Vidzeme parish of Vecpiebalga. It has grown to one of Latvia's biggest races with nearly 1,200 skiers participating in 2010.


Unfortunately, I was 10 days or so late to ski in the race, but not too late to ski the loop. Prior to my visit to Vecpiebalga, I indicated a desire to ski while I was there and my contact at the school made the arrangements. Maris, the physical education teacher, was enlisted to take me out skiing and we hit the trail within a couple hours of my arrival. He seemed delighted as a matter of fact but, the more I thought about it, I would gladly give up my afternoon duties to go for a ski, too.


We circled the lake from the south end in a counter-clockwise direction with Ilgars, Maris's friend leading the way. They quickly established their superior conditioning (considering the great snow conditions they had all winter and the marginal skiing in Maine, I was happy to concede) and after learning I was 10 years older, they gave me alot of slack. We met year 10 student Matiss about a kilometer out and he stayed with me most of the rest of the loop. I took it as a sign of respect that he escorted me around, but found later that he had done 2 laps the day before!

The terrain undulated gently through most of the first 12k but just past an area I later found was my ancestral home (Zeikari), a formible hill rose up before us. Ilgars, Maris, and Matiss skied, seemingly effortless, up the long climb, while I dragged along to the rear, but they waited at the top to share the sweeping downhill toward the finish.







Later, after a shower and a hot cup of tea with honey, I slept soundly, waking the next day with slight soreness in my legs and shoulders, and well adjusted to the new time zone.

Latvia--August 2009

Our trip to Latvia last summer is now 3 months into history and so far I've intended, but not followed through with, posting blog entries to document it. I have the picture above set as background on my laptop desktop as a reminder. It was taken from the observation tower of St. Peter's Lutheran Church in Old Riga, looking north toward the mouth of the Daugava River in the Baltic Sea.



The week-long stay was my second to Latvia (my first was in 2005) and Beth's first and once again I was determined to search for more details of my ancestors' lives there in the 19th century. In 2005, the search concentrated on my Great Great Grandfather Johann Karl Ludwig Maddaus, an artist and art teacher in Riga. I was also looking for a connection to Andzs Rathminder of Vecpiebalga, presumed to be my Great Grandmother's father, but nothing could document their relationship.



Fortunately, in spite of Russification, two World Wars, German repatriation, the Molotov-Ribbentrop pact between Stalin and Hitler, Nazi Invasion and near 50 year Soviet occupation, Latvia has been independent. Even more miraculously, a fair amount of historical information is available and my ancestors had profiles that warranted modest recording.



A recent breakthrough was the internet access to Raduraksti which consists of digitized records from many of the churches that were active in Latvia in the 19th century. Thanks to some hunches I followed in my search, I was able to find my Great Grandmother's baptism record and her parents names: Johann and Marie Rathminder. Johann's name in Latvian is Janis Ratminders, and he was the younger brother of Andzs Ratminders. Why my Great Grandmother mis-represented her parentage is unknown, but the clarification has opened up new insights to her up-bringing.



Our visit included viewing 9 of Johann Maddaus's paintings in a variety of locations including The National Art Museum in Riga, an exhibit at Rundale Palace, and churches in Garkalnes and Tirza, and a church in neighboring Paistu Estonia. We were taken to the site of Johann's burial plot at the Great Cemetery (Lielie Kapi) in Riga and to another church in Carnikava that once had an altar painting he painted. Both were obliterated during Soviet times, but were among those restoration projects which have been prevalent in Latvia over the past 18 years.



We visited Bauska, Baltezer's, Garkalnes, Carnikava, Vecpiebalga, Gaizinkalns, and Tirza, and met some of the most wonderful people, many of whom I had contacted by email prior to our arrival. We were treated with tremendous hospitality everywhere we went, and at times felt that it was as deeply moving for our hosts to have a great-great grandson of Johann Maddaus to visit his work as it was for me to see it. In many ways the circle had been closed with our meeting.

The Artist

A month after returning from a much needed vacation in Latvia (and Sweden), I 'm still processing the new information uncovered regarding my paternal ancestors who lived in Latvia in the 19th century. The search began at my older brother John's initiative in the early 1990's, in interviewing our father Ingo and documenting as much family history as possible in preparation for a Maddaus family reunion in 1995.

I'd always been interested in the connection with Latvia, since the word Riga rolled off Aunt Frieda's tongue during a family vacation she shared with us in Wells Beach, Maine in the early 60s. Technically a great aunt, she was born there in 1881, as were 5 of her 6 siblings. Riga was part of the Russian Empire at the time and the family patriarch, Johann Karl Ludwig Maddaus, had been one of a number of Germans who settled there. Born in Hamburg, he was an art teacher and artist, specializing in portraits and religious art.

Brother John discovered, with the help of University Southern Maine Professor Juris Ubans, that 2 of Johann Maddaus's paintings were in the collection of the Latvian National Museum of Art, including a self-portrait. The latter is the only image we have of our great great grandfather, but to date it's one of 9 paintings I've had the opportunity to see in Latvia and Estonia during my travels there in 2005 and 2009.

The breakup of the Soviet Union and end of its occupation of Latvia, as well as the advent of the internet, has led to the web publication of a tremendous store of Latvian history in the past 15 years. I've been able to identify members of Johann's family in addition to our Great Grandfather Oscar Wilhelm Maddaus (who emigrated to the US in the latter part of the 19th century) and locate the family burial site in Lielie Kapi (The Great Cemetery) in Riga.

Another revelation was the identity of Oscar's in-laws, the family of Augusta Dorothea Rathminder, the details of whom had been lost sometime after their move to the USA.

There's quite a bit of research to digest, but I'm hoping to record more of it here and in a family history at some future date.

Yankee Heaven

With the recent surge by the New York Yankees, propelling them comfortably into first place, I have to take back everything I said about them last May and half of what I said about their manager. While nothing is secure in these post-2004 AL Championship Series years, at least the current team is performing relatively consistently (even to the point of losing to Roy Halladay most of the time) going 47-17 in their last 64 games.

Looking down on the current team, I'm sure, is one of their greatest fans, my Dad, who must be pleased with the progress and cautious about making any predictions for the playoffs. The fact that the Yanks completed a 4-game sweep of the Red Sox on August 9, 2009, the 100th anniversary of his birth, was a special occasion for him, no doubt.

Dad especially liked the players who had paid their dues in the Yankees farm system; veterans like Jorge Posada, Andy Pettitte, Mariano Rivera, younger guys like Robinson Cano and Melky Cabrera, and rookies such as Ramiro Pena and Fransisco Cervelli, are always perferred over Alex Rodriguez, C. C. Sabathia and A. J. Burnett, whose talents are appreciated, and Carl Pavano and Rick Rhoden, whose failures were lamented.

Also looking down on the current team with great interest is "The Iron Horse," Henry Louis "Lou" Gehrig. The all-time Yankees hits leader with 2,721 will be eclipsed in the the record books by their outstanding shortstop, Derek Jeter, in the next week or so. Jeter stands at 2,713 and with a .330 batting average, needs only 5 or 6 games at his current pace to surpass Gehrig's mark. I'm sure Lou will be pleased with his successor, a man of quiet dignity like himself, who plays hard day-in, day-out (most games played in the majors since 1996, his rookie year) and puts singles, walks and advancing the runner above homeruns and personal statistics.

Jeter was always one of Dad's favorite from the time he played for the Double-A Albany-Colonie Yankees in the early 90s. One game, Jacob, Dad and I saw in 1994, Jeter batted right after Andy Fox, and before Tate Seefried, and went 2 for 4 with an error in the field. His presence was the more remarkable aspect of that game. You just knew the sportswriters were correct in predicting that Jeter would be the next starting shortstop for the big club. He stayed with the A-C Yankees for 34 games, batted .377 and moved on to Triple A.

There's no doubt Jeter will reach the record but its interesting to note that he also needs 3 homeruns to reach the 20 plateau for the season, not a great accomplishment in itself, but what will establish a new team record--20 or more homeruns in a season by 8 players on a team. Knowing Jeter's team approach and flair for the dramatic, I wouldn't be the least surprised if his 2,722nd hit was his 20th homerun of the season, any more than if it was a hustling infield hit to deep shortstop with Derek just beating the throw to first (and a tying run scoring with 2 outs in the 8th inning).

Jacob and I will be watching whatever the hit might be and I'm sure Dad and Lou will be, too. Maybe they'll get together to talk about the Yankees of yesteryear and trade Yogiisms.


"I always thought that record would stand until it was broken." Yogi Berra

Walter Cronkite

Walter Cronkite

1916-2009

R.I.P

Wow!!

Maybe you have to be in your 50s to appreciate it, but what 59-year-old Tom Watson accomplished this week was extraordinary. Playing in the British Open at Turnburry in Scotland, Watson not only stayed among the leaders throughout the tournament, competing with athletes 20-40 years younger than him, he walked onto the 18th green on the 72nd and last hole of the tournament with a one-stroke lead and a chance to win.

That he missed the shot for the victory and subsequently lost a playoff for the championship to American Stewart Cink does little to diminish his achievement. Sure, it would have been great for him to win his 6th Open and be the oldest, by far, to win a major tournament. But the fact that he stood there on the 18th with a chance to win, at age 59, is just incredible.

I'm not a golfer, but I've enjoyed watching a tournament or two over the years and players like Arnold Palmer, Tom Watson and Phil Mickelson always impressed me with their demeamor and skill. It's a pleasure to see Tom back in the hunt for another major title.

Well done, Tom!

Dresden Germany

President Obama's visit to Germany on Friday linked two sites: the city of Dresden and the site of the Nazi concentration camp at Buchenwald outside Weimar.

Although they're over 200 kilometers apart, they share a common history. The atrocities perpetrated by the Nazis against the Jews during the Holocaust and the horrific firebombing of Dresden by US and British bombers display the indifference to humanity that underscores World War II, and, of course, all wars. Obama's choice of these two sites was an intentional act of reconciliation and remembrance, that neither may ever be repeated.

Dresden was the focal point of Kurt Vonnegut's 1969 novel Slaughterhouse-Five, or The Children's Crusade: A Duty-Dance With Death, reflecting his experience there during the War and serving as a kind of therapy for surviving the firebombing and the resigned acceptance, promoted by those who carried it out, of the thousands of innocent lives that were lost. Historians may argue the relative strategic importance of the city late in the war, but the justification of the act wears thin.

As a part-time musician living in North Conway NH, I often frequented the Otto Ninow Music Store in the center of town, mostly to buy guitar strings and later for beginning instruments for my sons. Otto had a bulletin board that displayed articles and business cards for local musicians and always gave us a discount. Usually there was no one else in the shop and he was quite the conversationalist, often making comments about the ebb and flow of the local business and the decisions of the town fathers.

One day Otto asked about my last name, was it German? He knew of course, and that led to an on-going conversation about the old country with new installments each time I entered the shop. I made sure to allow for at least 20 minutes for each visit.

Otto was from Dresden and was a mischling, a half-Jew, his father was protestant and his mother Jewish. His father was a band leader and Otto followed in his father's footsteps, and it saved his life. During the war he assumed a protestant identity and survived the war in-part by leading the Charlie Wonin (Ninow backwards) Band, many times entertaining the Nazis.

Otto described himself as an optimist and after the war opened a music shop in Riverhead, LI, New York, which is still operating I believe, and later his retirement store in North Conway. The latter had somewhat limited hours, especially during the ski season when he worked on the Ski Patrol at Black Mountain in Jackson. (Evening hours only) He kept up both commitments well into his eighties.

Otto Ninow: My Life, his autobiography (edited by Cronin Minton) provides some tragic insight into the Dresden firebombing. His mother, blind and 65, survived the bombing but later, after having the false assumption that her son was dead, took her own life. She and all 21 of Otto's Jewish relatives died in the war. Based on an unmailed letter she wrote to Otto after the bombing and a study of refugee movement to the city in advance of the Soviet movement from the east, Otto estimated the number of lives lost as not 35,000, but closer to 335,000. Though thankful to the Allies for his freedom from Nazi tyranny, he concludes that War is "LEGAL ORGANIZED MURDER."

Otto had an enduring motto: "Live every day on earth, and be happy with it, as though it were your last."

I haven't been to Dresden yet, but have it on my list of cities to visit.

Northeastern University Graduation

Friday, May 1, 2009

TD Banknorth Garden

Boston, MA

The Graduate

Bachelor of Science

Political Science

New Yankee Stadium

In the past few months, with all the talk of bailouts and stimulus packages, the use of the word billion has dramatically increased. (That reminds me of the birthday card my son Caleb sent me a few years back: Dick Cheney to W: "Did you hear we're getting over 100 Brazillian troops to help us?" W: Wow... that's fantastic! How much is a brazillion?") It seems only fitting that the Yankees would open a new stadium that cost that much ($1.5 billion that is, not brazillion).

Jacob and I planned a trip for the first series in the new stadium, a Saturday afternoon game with the Cleveland Indians. We got there at least an hour before game time thinking we'd have time to look around, see monument park and buy a cheese-steak sub before the game started. Everyone else must have had the same idea. We didn't see the monuments, although they're the same ones as in the old stadium anyway, and barely did a circuit around the stadium before heading to our seats with subs in hand, 2 outs into the top of the first.

One of the Yanks' new acquisitions, (costing almost as much as the stadium) Mark Teixiera, hit a homerun in the bottom of the first with Johnny Damon on base, and the good guys had an early 2-run lead. We should have left then while we were ahead, because it went downhill fast from there.

The Indians proceeded to pummel Chin-Ming Wang and a recent minor-league call-up who replaced him, for a major league record 14 runs in the top of the 2nd inning. Unbelieveable! Cleveland probably is wishing they could play all their games there. They used to say that the clubhouse in the old stadium smelled funny. The new stadium is spacious and luxurious and its the team that stinks.

We hung in until the fifth when, at 2-19, it was not even funny anymore. The final score was 4-22. It was probably payback for the last time I saw the Indians and Yankees play, when the Yanks scored 6 in the bottom of the ninth, capped by a walk-off homer by Alex Rodriguez, to win 8-6.

Jacob and I took a detour to Columbia University on the way back to the hotel and visited the Mathematics Department where my father earned his bachelor's and master's degrees back in the early 1930s. It's a pretty campus although high on a hill--we imagined that all 8 million New Yorkers will be up there when global warming puts the rest of the city underwater.

Bald Mountain Oquossoc Maine

St. Patrick's Day

Watching the news of all the St. Patrick's Day parades and celebrations brought back memories of our Thanksgiving trip to Ireland, so I finally put together a movie consisting of some of our favorite pictures set to Kevin Dolan's brilliant "Oh, To Be in Ireland."

Whether or not I can trace my ancestry back to the McBrides of Donegal or the Willises or another small slice of Irish blood, I feel I have a bit in spirit, in any case.

Caribou Bog Maine

Not to be one to coach a sport and not compete myself, I finally entered my first ski race of the year and was reminded of the importance of adequate training. The event was the The 24th Great Caribou Bog Wicked Winter Ski Tour & Race, also known as the Caribou Bog Ski Race, which winds from the Bangor City Forest through Veazie and Orono and finishes in Old Town.

The race is a throw-back to the classical style ski race, in tracks, on a narrow course through the woods. We even had a tight, dual-track start which was self-seeded, and quickly reverted to one track within the first kilometer. The scramble has its own strategies and calamities for some, as skis and poles (and some elbows) are flying in every possible direction.

I survived the inital scramble intact and settled into a moderate pace, the ultimate goal to maintain to the finish. Having skied no more than 12k in any single workout, my dubious pace held well until I encountered Beth at just past the 8k mark. In fact, it was almost as fast as the one 8k race I skied last year. That, of course, is a big OOPS!!!

After shedding my hat and saying a quick hi, while Beth clicked away, I rounded the next turn and promptly mugged a little old lady tourer who was too slow to respond to my "Track!! Track!!" I regret that in these circumstances, the race must go on, but if the victim, by some strange coincidence, reads this blog---I am truly sorry, both for the mugging and not stopping to see if all your bones were all unbroken.

Having skied the first half to expectation, I slowed on the climbs up Newman and Bangor Hills losing 5 or 6 places running out of gas in the process. One short dip in-between featured a sharp right turn at the bottom and, with little muscle control left, I wavered and landed hard on my tail bone.

Fortunately, the last 4ks were mostly downhill and by the end I had regained my form to finish in a flourish. The time for 16k (10 miles) was 1:12:59, not too bad for an old guy. Next year, I'll train for the full distance, and who knows how fast I can be.

For all you old-time classic cross country skiers out there, I highly recommend the Caribou Bog Race--a great course, beautiful scenery and a fun time.

The Blizzard of '09

I'm not sure how this ranks all-time for Western Maine blizzards but we woke up this morning with a 20-inch surprise, certainly good 'nough for a snow-day and definitely a test for the snow-blower Beth's Dad donated to our household last winter. Considering there was but a trace of snow at 10:30 PM last night when I turned off the Academy Awards show (Heath Ledger won for best supporting actor, as predicted, and apparently the rest went true-to-form), the rate of snowfall must have been in the 2 to 3 inch per hour range for a good part of the night. Power was out for a while here in Dixfield and longer in surrounding areas.

We all had our duties. Archie and Brent cleaned off the cars and did some shoveling, while I ran the snowblower. Beth took the official measurement and recorded it digitally (twice) for future generations to marvel at.

This was definitely one for the record books, if only that it was the first to make this blog.

Still on the top of my list is the Blizzard of 1969, though. I arrived in Lewiston just in time for that, one with the intention of visiting and interviewing at Bates College for a couple days and doing the same down the road at Bowdoin College in Brunswick. The Blizzard had other ideas, however, and my stay at Bates lasted 4 nights. I remember walking over to the Cage one afternoon for a track workout and seeing a maintenance worker just starting to shovel the walk. He was just finishing as we left and already 2-3 inches had fallen at his start point.

As an avid skier, the storm sold me on coming to Maine and an acceptance from Bates sealed the deal. I've yet to see another storm quite like that though.