I have just finished reading a book by Bryant Simon, The Hamlet Fire.
The Triangle Shirtwaist fire took place in 1911, but it seems we have not learned much in the ensuing 80 years. A fire broke out in a chicken processing plant in the little town of Hamlet, NC, on September 3, 1991. The fire itself was caused by the owners’ deliberate disregard for common safety procedures, insisting on repeated makeshift repairs to a cooking vat rather than spending the money to repair the thing properly. Add to this, the doors were all locked, and the windows boarded up – to prevent theft, according to the owners. Twenty-five people were killed, and an additional fifty-five were injured, some very seriously.
Although North Carolina had passed legislation to provide for safely inspectors, they had not funded the project. There were so few inspectors in the state that, had each one visited four factories a day, each plant would have been inspected once every seventy-five years. The health inspector did inspect the place more often, and was aware that doors were locked from the outside, there were no marked fire exits, and the place was a dimly lit rabbit warren, but since these things did not affect the food being prepared he didn’t bother to report the conditions. A really classic case of “it’s not my job.”
The most profoundly damning part of the book, in my opinion, was comes in the epilogue, when Mr. Simon discusses what happens to your chicken between the egg and your dining room table. It’ll ruin your appetite, for sure!
We have been purchasing raw peanuts to feed our squirrels from a local farm stand. (Yes, I know there are plenty of acorns. Somebody has already pointed that out to me.) The critters have been chowing down on the nuts all summer, but now that cooler weather has arrived they have begun burying them. Every place.
. It’s two pieces of wood (maple, in this case), pegged together, and a dowel rod in the center of the flat piece. I wind the yarn onto the piece of PVC pipe, and slip the pipe over the spindle. The yarn unwinds as I work, and doesn’t go skittering all over the place.
Last week, I moseyed on over to Grace Shaw’s shop, The Virtual Dollhouse, and collected a lot more goodies for Austin’s McKinley. The kitchen cabinets I had used in the original go-round, when I made this up for his dad, have been discontinued, so Grace and I put together a few things that were by the same maker, but different finishes, and I brought them home and painted them to match. There are three different types of wood, here, and the stove is another matter entirely. I simply wasn’t willing to spend a lot on this project, and the stove is a matter of “you get what you pay for”. S’Okay with me. Nothing that a little bit of foam core won’t fix.
g to put on the floor. I do need spigots for the sink, and a stove hood. I know I saved the one I pulled out, but heaven only knows what I did with it. Put it in a Good Place, most likely. Can’t find the brass bed for the master bedroom, either.
thisendoftheswamp 