Currently viewing the tag: "China"

Looking Back

By On · Add Comment · In Columns

Sabillasville Caught up in Chinese Civil War

by James Rada, Jr.

Once Marion Firor left Thurmont on the express train on August 20, 1916, it took her more than a month to reach China, where she was to become a missionary teacher. She fell in love with the country and the people there, only to see it ripped apart by war.

She received word of her appointment at the Yochow School in Yochow, China, a city of about 40,000 people, on April 27 and began making preparations for her departure. She had to resign from her teaching position at Boonsboro High School where she taught English.

Her father was the reverend at St. John’s Reformed Church in Sabillasville. He held a farewell service for his daughter at the church on August 10.

She enjoyed her work at the school and loved the children, but tensions were brewing in the country. She wrote her family regularly, although it took the letters just as long to reach her family as it had taken Marion to reach China.

She wrote that many of the buildings in Yochow were made of gray brick and ranged from one to three stories tall. Although foreigners worked in the city, there was still some xenophobic sentiment among the people.

“Yochow was one of the last cities of China to admit foreigners, and they are still looked upon askance by some,” Marion wrote.

Still, she loved the Chinese people and admired their ability to endure. “Calamities that would crush foreigners seem never to faze them. It is nothing unusual for a merchant owning a stand to have his business totally destroyed several times by the frequent fires or looted by soldiers. Yet, he begins again at the bottom only to have his work once more undone,” she wrote.

In early April 1918, the Firors received a cable that read “Yochow in ashes—Missionaries safe—women gone from the city.”

Fighting had broken out in China among various factions. Her family was anxious over whether Marion had remained safe or not as they waited for further word from her and read news reports of the fighting.

The fighting moved away from Yochow, and Marion returned to the school and resumed teaching.

Then, in late June of 1920, word reached the Firors that soldiers had murdered Rev. W. A. Reimert in Yochow. This was someone Marion knew and worked with on occasion. The Firors once again grew anxious over the safety of their daughter.

They received a letter from Marion in early August that had been written a few days before her parents had heard of Rev. Reimert’s murder. She was in Chinkungahan and wrote of people fleeing the city on a sailboat flying the American flag.

“Chinese teachers’ houses had been looted; our girls who lived there and some of their friends had been stripped of all but their inner garment and searched for money, and Mr. Reimert had been shot and instantly killed,” Marion wrote.

Friends snuck people out of the city at night and many of them fled to the missionary school. International law allowed the school to protect women and children, but not men.

Food became scarce. Fires started in various areas of the city from the fighting. Soldiers occupied whatever homes they wanted and dug up the floors of homes looking for hidden valuables. Marion also wrote that Rev. Reimert had been shot trying to keep soldiers out of the school.

The school was only a temporary sanctuary, though. It soon became obvious that it would either burn or be raided, so the teachers, students, and refugees started to flee.

“So, we flung a few things in our trunks preparatory to leaving. But, mother, it was terrible to have people come and hang onto you and beg you to save their lives. In the same breath they begged us to stay and to go and take them,” Marion wrote.

She managed to escape from the city, but she realized in her haste to flee she had taken a lot of unnecessary items and left behind needed ones.

“You find you have parts of several dresses and no whole ones, no pencils or pins or any of the little things one needs, one washrag and towel which you have to keep washing every day, and all sorts of crazy things you don’t need and so few of those you do,” she wrote.

Things calmed down once again, school resumed, and things began to look normal. She said she tried to focus on the mundane and the classes she taught in biology, chemistry, bacteriology, and English.

In 1921, she made plans to return home by the fall. However, there were still intermittent troubles in her region of China. Soldiers entered a home of one of Marion’s day school pupils. The soldier started to carry off a table. “The mother objected too strenuously to suit them, so they put the table down and took the woman instead,” Marion wrote.

They were also stealing supplies from the school, but no one dared object.

In July, she sailed on the Empress of Asia to Vancouver, British Columbia. She arrived on August 9. It then took another week before she reached home.

Leaving China had been more treacherous than she expected, as the group encountered various groups of soldiers. She had also been robbed when a crook cut a hole in her suitcase and stole $90.

She had been home less than a month when she told her father’s congregation, “The country fairly seems to get into your blood. You hate to leave it. I have really been homesick for it since my return.”

HAPPILY EVER AFTER

By On · Add Comment · In Columns

Alone Together

by Valerie Nusbaum

In January, we began hearing and reading things about a mysterious new virus that had reared its ugly head in China.  Randy and I didn’t think too much about it then, but by February and early March, the doctors, scientists, and politicians in the United States were warning us that things weren’t looking good.  Italy had already fallen prey to the coronavirus that was now being labeled COVID-19, and the United States was being invaded by way of Washington state.

Somewhere around the middle of March, we were told that self-quarantining was the best way to keep from being infected by what was now a very deadly foe. Because lots of people can’t follow directions or refuse to take things seriously, the President and Governors of various states began enacting mandatory stay-at-home restrictions. Businesses were being forced to close, and we were told that we could only venture out for essentials like groceries and medicines. Some businesses and agencies were deemed necessary and were allowed to stay open, but were urged to have employees work from home whenever possible.

At this point, Randy and I discussed the situation and realized that not a whole lot was going to change for us. We already both worked from home, and we didn’t go out a lot. We felt that things were going to be okay for us because we had a full freezer and pantry and were stocked up on most essentials.

Day 1 — Randy worked all day in his basement office. I worked in my office and studio upstairs. We thawed and cooked chicken for dinner, watched some television, and went to sleep, hoping that the state of the country would improve rapidly.

Day 5 — I went to Brunswick to take food, groceries, water, and supplies to my mother. I assumed that this was an allowable excursion since I’m the only caregiver my mom has. When the quarantine began, I asked Mom if she wanted to come and stay with us for the duration. “Heck no,” was her answer.

Day 8 — We began hearing that toilet paper was in short supply. Randy counted our stash and declared that we had 24 mega rolls and we’d be fine. We congratulated ourselves for buying in bulk and on sale.

Day 13 — People were starting to wear masks out in public. My friend, Gail, offered to make masks for us, and I took her up on her offer. In turn, I offered to pick up some milk for Gail’s husband, John, on our next trip to the grocery store. Gail and I arranged a “meet and greet” in the parking lot at Roy Rogers in Brunswick to exchange the milk for the masks.  She stayed in her car, and Randy put the milk in Gail’s trunk and retrieved a bag containing our masks. We exchanged a few words from a safe distance. To anyone watching, this may have looked like a drug deal among senior citizens, but in these tough times, no one questioned it.

Day 15 — We celebrated Randy’s birthday and Easter.  There were two cakes, a ham, and macaroni and cheese. None of us cared too much about eating healthfully because no one knew what was in store. We still had 20 rolls of toilet paper left.

Day 20 — Randy had to go to the post office. He came home laughing because he’d worn his mask, some rubber gloves, a hat and dark glasses. No one questioned his attire when only a short while ago the police might have been called. Things had gotten worse out there. People were scared, and the nasty virus had started claiming victims right here in Frederick County.

Day 21 — We were once again able to buy eggs and milk. Meat was available, at least here in Thurmont, but toilet paper and canned baked beans were scarce.  Randy wondered if those two item shortages might be connected.  Oddly, COVID-19 presented as a respiratory viral infection, and not a GI bug.

Day 26 — Randy baked a loaf of pumpkin bread. I made biscuits, homemade pizza, apple muffins, and several pasta dishes. Mom was cooking and baking, too, as fast as I could get the groceries and supplies to her. Every week, she talked with Randy and rattled off a long list of items that she needed for her pies and casseroles. Our stomachs were too full, and we were getting low on toilet paper.

Day 32 — We were forced to do a virtual doctor visit, but it was just to get some test results. I guess a virtual visit is better than nothing, but I really fail to see how some issues can be treated that way. We were all thankful to be virus- and symptom-free as far as we knew, but who could be sure, as we hadn’t been tested.

Day 40 — I’ve been cutting my own hair, and it doesn’t look too bad, if I do say so myself. Randy’s hair had gotten out of control, so I took my shears to it. It’s good that he enjoys wearing a hat. We were able to buy some off-brand toilet paper, but still no Charmin.

We’re somewhere around Day 50 of this mess now. Some restrictions have been lifted, but we’re hearing dire predictions of things to come.  There are more symptoms than we previously knew and maybe some long-term effects of COVID-19.  The economy is in sad shape. My heart aches for all the people who’ve lost jobs and income. I’m hoping and praying that the coming weeks bring us some hope and good news.  Most of all, my wish is that all of us stay safe and healthy. Also, if any of you have an extra roll or two of Charmin…

Looking Back – 1930

By On · Add Comment · In Columns

by James Rada, Jr.

The Daughters of Charity went to China in the early 20th century to care for the sick and needy and to spread the word of God.

China experienced wars and unrest during the first half of the 20th century, with the rise of Communism; the Nationalist Party; and Chiang Kai-shek, China’s leader for nearly half a century.

The Daughters of Charity opened a hospital in Kan Chow in 1923 and one in Taiwo in 1928. From that point on, they did their best to care for all those they could. Their operation was funded by contributions from other Daughters of Charity houses. The sisters did not interfere in politics and were allowed to operate their hospitals. That changed in 1930.

The Central Plains War broke out in China between the Chiang Kai-shek’s Nationalist government, which had come to power in 1928, and several regional military commanders who challenged the government’s legitimacy. The war eventually involved a million Chinese soldiers, of which three hundred thousand were casualties. This does not even consider the number of civilian casualties.

Father Leon Cahill in Ganzhou warned the sisters of a coming attack by bandits on March 15, 1930. They made an escape plan, prayed they wouldn’t need it, and continued their work. Then, on March 20, word came that the bandits were nearing. The hospital staff dropped what they were doing, which included leaving their lunch, which had been prepared already, uneaten.

“Donning the garb of Chinese coolies and guided by a faithful servant, they were escorted to the distant home of a Christian,” the Gettysburg Times reported. Their habits were hidden in rice bins. The group was made up of six sisters, three Catholic priests, two servants, and a French bishop.

They were only able to stay at the house for a short time, though, because too many people knew where the sisters had gone. Under cover of darkness, they were taken to the house of a pagan, who allowed them to stay in a hidden room.

The Communists, who by then must have been frustrated by the Catholic group’s escape, offered a $200 reward for each sister or priest brought to them. Out of a fear that they might be betrayed, the friends of the sisters led the group to a third location, where they were able to rest for a few days.

Then began a long journey across China to try and reach safety, while still helping those the sisters had been sent to serve.

While this group was on the run, five French Daughters of Charity were captured in October and held prisoner until Christmas, before they were freed.

As the American sisters moved about the countryside, they were joined by two additional sisters, and they were sometimes able to wear their habits. When they did, they had to travel in sedan chairs with the curtains closed. “Eventually, they finally returned to their hospitals, despite the warnings, and against the wishes of friends, in the garb of their order,” the Gettysburg Times reported.

They intended to resume their work, but the hospitals were in ruins. “Everything in the two hospitals had been destroyed, except two pictures hanging on the wall of a small office in the hospital at Kan Chow,” according to the newspaper.

At this point, it was decided to bring the sisters back to the United States. The eight sisters left on December 26, 1930. The Daughters of Charity were Sister Vincent Louise DeLude, Sister Anselma Jarboe, Sister Helena Lucas, Sister Emily Kolb, Sister Eugenia Beggs, Sister Pauline Strable, Sister Catherine O’Neill, and Sister Clara Groell. They had spent nine months as fugitives because they had wanted to help the sick and poor.

The sisters in Emmitsburg spent days preparing a welcome for Sisters Helena and Clara, who were the only ones who returned to the motherhouse in Emmitsburg. The others returned to other Daughters of Charity houses.

Sister Anselma and Sister Clara returned to serve in China from 1936 to 1951. Sister Emily and Sister Vincent returned to China from 1936 to 1952. Sister Catherine returned to China from 1932 to 1952.

A pistol battalion of the Northwest Army during the Central Plains War in China.

On The Wild Side

By On · Add Comment · In Columns

Habitat Fragmentation and Land Ownership

In this present time civilization, humans are finding themselves in the midst of more than one environmental quagmire. How to get control of the plastic and junk in the ocean? How to keep air clean enough to breath in China? How to rid old pipes of poisonous lead and our water of pharmaceuticals waste, which go into toilets? Am I getting too personal?

Actually, everything we do and have done in the past are exactly what professional scientists/ecologists are dealing with now. If there ever was a field in which our children will find ready employment, it will be as research problem solvers, and maybe even politicians who care about cleaning up our messes. However, the question we all have is: how did we ever get to this point anyway, and what can we do about it as individual homeowners, as people who care?

To their credit, in 1621, the people native to America, the “Indians”—after prayerful consultations with their elders, dying and weakened due to disease and brought here by previous white explorers, weary of warfare—decided it was in their best interest to make peace with the Pilgrims. In spite of the Mayflower crew robbing them of their seed corn and burial treasures, they made a pact together that would endure long enough to get squash, beans, and that same stolen corn planted, harvested, and then shared.2

Peace for the natives was the best and most productive remedy, even though strangers were encroaching on their land. Interesting…and perhaps something we can learn from during this present time of anxiety about refugees. Unfortunately, back then, that fragile peace did not last very long. There will always be the good mixed with the bad, the greedy mixed with the philanthropists, and I assume this is how it will always be. Nothing seems to have changed since the beginning of time.

Of course, as years passed and more settlers arrived to colonize America, the natives were totally kicked off their land. The settlers had brought with them an entirely different ethic of land ownership from Europe, as well as military hardware, far more effective than the natives hand-crafted bows, arrows, and spears. Over the centuries, their precious land has been stolen, divided, and subdivided, fragmented and sold, and some of it has sadly been misused and polluted.

I am fortunate to live in a sub-division of a beautiful, old 200-plus acre homestead here in the Catoctin Mountain. Due to my love of and concern for diversity in the natural world, I am allowing my 11-plus acres to not only feed me, but to feed all my other “relations.” The native idea of “other relations” extends far beyond human relatives and includes the wonderful diversity of flora and fauna, which most of us care about: bees, butterflies, birds, wildflowers, trees. etc. These are things our children are learning to care about in school, and as wise elders, we should also.

As homeowners, and landowners, we can begin to bring these various fragments of land together by allowing native plants to grow, by creating native wildflower gardens on part of our lawns, and by planting native trees. That way, the habitat fragmentation, which has been going on since the pilgrims settled at Plymouth Rock, can be somewhat remedied. If you ever feel like giving up in despair, there is one very real thing you can do, and the opportunity is right in your own back yard, or front yard, too (why not).

The vision is to create a beautiful tapestry right here where we live, of yards and properties dedicated to the health and well-being of our earth. It already looks like a quilted pattern here in Thurmont, but the work is not yet finished. If anything, the work has just begun!

I belong to the Green Team here in Thurmont, and I am heading up a project along the rail road tracks, which will not only beautify our town with wildflowers, but create habitat for wildlife. I am presently seeking volunteers to clean it up a bit in February and then spread seeds. All this must be done before March, as seeds need the time to stratify (to get the benefit of freezing weather), so as to enhance their germination.

If you are interested in helping me with this project, please get in touch with me at songbirdschant@gmail.com. If not, then consider doing something on your own little fragment of land, no matter how small. As I always say, “Every little bit helps!”

On The Wild Side

By On · Add Comment · In Community News

The Praying Mantis: Friend or Foe?

Christine Schoene Maccabee

Have you ever seen a butterfly’s wings, mysteriously minus its body, on the ground beneath your favorite flowers? Did you ever wonder how and why they got there? The answer to this mystery is a very unexpected one—at least it was for me. It is more than likely the work of a praying mantis (or “preying” mantis as I call them), that seem to prefer the soft buttery bodies of our precious swallowtails and monarchs, not to mention invaluable bees.

The first time I saw a butterfly in the clutches of a mantis, I was shocked. Within seconds he/she ate the entire body from top to bottom, allowing the wings to float gently to the ground. From that moment on, I realized that I could not tolerate mantis in my flower gardens, which I had begun as habitat for bees and butterflies. I also witnessed a mantis nonchalantly eating a honey bee one day; not a pleasant sight either, as honey bees are becoming more rare lately. 

I know there are a lot of mantis lovers out there. Years ago, I lost a potential boyfriend because of our difference in opinion about them, though he did not give me a chance to plead my case (his loss). So, before I make any enemies in my readership, here are a few facts that you may not know.

There are three types of mantis in our country. One is a native, and the others were brought here—mostly accidentally—from Europe and China (the Chinese one is found mostly in Maryland and Delaware). There is actually an overpopulation of mantis in our country due to this problem. Also, according to the artist-naturalist John Quinn, who has written nine books on nature and science, a rumor was started back in the 1940s that one could be fined $50.00 if caught squashing a mantis. Mr. Quinn suggests that how this  myth got started and continued on for so long “is a mystery even to folklorists.” So feel free to reduce your mantis population, as you will not be fined, and they have few predators. Smaller birds tend to avoid trying to eat them due to the painful pinching of their strong forelegs. I rest my case…

Like most well-meaning people, I thought the mantis was an important insect to have in my gardens to control garden pests. Thus, when I moved out here twenty-six years ago, I went out of my way to save mantis egg cases before the field was mowed in the fall; I positioned those egg cases in various parts of the vegetable garden and berry bushes. Sadly, I discovered the next year that the mantis is all too frequently foe rather than friend. That summer, I found about fifty pairs of wings under the butterfly bush and other flowers. Also, rather than eating the bean beetles on my pole beans where I would transport any mantis I found, they would fly back over to the butterfly bush and begin stalking butterflies again. At that point I knew I had to take drastic action. I knew the war was on!

Let me say that I would never advocate killing praying mantis, but I thought I would share some information with you that you may find useful in your pursuit of “mantis management.” Most people are not open to ridding their gardens of the “fascinating” mantis, but why invite butterflies and bees into your beautiful gardens if it is only a death trap? For me, a choice had be made, and so I made mine.

I have a “largish” plastic container with a lid and a handle, so when I see a mantis I simply knock it into the container. Sometimes I might have several in there before the day is through. If I happen to have garden gloves, I will also grab one by hand. Then, I either throw them into the chickens to eat (a great source of protein for chickens) or take them down the road that night or the next day and drop them off in a wooded area. I also have no qualms about putting their egg cases under foot in the fall and winter as a means of control. So, there are many ways to control them, though there will always be more than enough of them—native and non-native—living out in the wild areas…just not in my butterfly gardens!

The human gardener, out of necessity, will usually intervene in order to have the desired results. We are as much a part of nature as all the other creatures on this earth. Sometimes it can feel like an eat or be eaten life we live, kill or be killed. If it isn’t a rabbit destroying your kale and cabbage (remember the story of Peter Rabbit?) or the beetles ruining your squash and green beans, then it is the mantis eating your bees and butterflies. The ways of nature, though fascinating, are as confounding as they are frustrating. We could therefore spend all of our time controlling, and spend no time simply appreciating.

So, I do what I can, and then let the rest go. I will try every day to sit on my deck and enjoy the indigo bunting in my old cherry tree, be thrilled when I see my first yellow or black swallowtail, and rejoice when I spot an endangered blue butterfly.  However, I will be quick as anything to grab my mantis catcher container if I see a “preying” mantis laying in wait on the branch of my butterfly bush or silently stalking anything that moves among the lilies and sweet peas.

Then I can go back to enjoying the beauty and mystery all around me, knowing that I have done my little part in the scheme of things, and relax in the reality of my inability to control everything.          Enjoy creation!