Caryn
Sometimes we think of the news media as being overly dramatic, and indeed, they can be, but what of April 18, 1930. On that particular day, during the BBC radio station’s 8:45pm broadcast, the announcer in London came on the air and said simply, “Good evening. Today is Good Friday. There is no news.” Really, that, in itself, was news, or at least newsworthy. Nevertheless, after making the odd announcement, the station proceeded to play 15 minutes of piano music before its next program began. I suppose it makes sense that the day could have been fairly uneventful…even uncommonly so, but it seems like there must have been some kind of news to report. The wireless service then switched back to broadcasting from the Queen’s Hall in Langham Place, London, where Wagner’s opera “Parsifal” was underway.
In reality, there is no such thing as a day without news, and April 18, 1930, was no exception. On that day, there were at least three significant events, including the Chittagong Armory Raid in India, a tragic church fire in Romania, and a powerful typhoon in the Philippines. Now, I suppose the announcer might not have heard of these events as of the broadcast time, but since the BBC is an international station, that shouldn’t have been the case. Besides that, it was 8:45 in the evening, so the news of the day had already happened. They should have known, but 87 years ago, on April 18, 1930, the BBC’s news announcer had nothing to report. The 8:45pm bulletin simply stated, “There is no news,” before piano music filled the remainder of the 15-minute segment. It really was ludicrous.
This unusual broadcast reflected the BBC’s early mission to provide morally uplifting content. In addition, its editorial judgment that nothing occurring that day was significant enough for the public played a part in the broadcast. In reality, events such as the nationalist activities in India were happening, as were the other newsworthy events mentioned, but communication limitations prevented the BBC from reporting them. The April 18, 1930, event has come to represent a simpler time in journalism, standing in stark contrast to today’s nonstop news cycle, where information flows endlessly through radio, television, and social media. Nevertheless, these days, we would call the event” suppressing the news” rather than “protecting the public” from what the government could consider potentially hurtful news. These days, newsrooms almost never see a 
“slow news” day, as stories are constantly emerging and even the smallest events get reported to keep audiences hooked.
The “Day Without News Day” did provide a chance to think about how we consume media, step back from the endless news cycle, and reflect on how journalism has evolved. It was also a lighthearted reminder that editorial choices define what counts as news, showing the differences between past and present reporting styles. The moment invited people to slow down, notice the constant flow of information, and appreciate the rare quiet in a world that’s always updating.
When my sister-in-law, Jennifer Parmely, met her partner, Brian Cratty, I remember thinking that he was a quiet man, and wondering if he would be able to “survive” being pushed into the middle of this big family. Now, by “survive” I don’t mean physically survive, but rather if he would have the feeling of being “eaten alive” by being planted in the middle of a large group of people. I needn’t have worried, because Brian was quite capable of standing on his own two feet in a crowd. It’s not really surprising for someone to be a bit reserved when meeting a big family like ours for the first time. It takes courage to walk into that kind of situation…I know because I’ve been there. So, when Jennifer introduced Brian to the family, I couldn’t help but feel a little sorry for him. It’s kind of like standing in front of hundreds of people to give your first public speech at 13 years old. But once you get to know Brian, you see the gentle, kind man Jennifer fell in love with. You also see the confident man who has “made a few speeches” in his life. He was fine and felt no fear. In fact, it was likely my own shyness that made me feel uneasy for him.
Brian and Jennifer are soulmates. They have the same interests and are going in the same direction. Nevertheless, they do have differences and interests of their own. They love spending time in the mountains, no matter the season. For them, summer is just as enjoyable as winter. I’m not a fan of winter anywhere, but I do love the mountains in summer when I can hike. Brian and Jennifer, along with most of their family, are big ski enthusiasts, so winter on the mountain is perfect for them. Still, Brian has some interests that are slightly different than Jennifers. One of his favorite pastimes is mountain biking. He’ll hop on his bike and ride the trails around their cabin, sometimes disappearing for an hour or more at a time, lost in his own world…his favorite place to be…without equal. 
Brian has been such a wonderful addition to Jennifer’s family and to ours as well. The little ones adore him, and he’s so good with them. He fits right in with all of us, and though he is a quiet man in a crowd, he can hold a great conversation with anyone. We all love having him around, and he’s a fantastic partner to Jennifer and a loving grandpa to the babies. Today is Brian’s birthday. Happy birthday Brian!! Have a great day!! We love you!
In 1907, France saw one of its most unusual strikes. In fact, this strike would seem unusual anywhere in the world. While better wages and working conditions were on the table as usual, this protest had an unexpected twist. The strikers were fighting for the right to grow a mustache. That is something in most cases would be a personal choice, not something that would be a factor in the workplace. Through the years, hairstyles, and yes even facial hair, or the lack thereof have been a factor is society, status, and even manhood. In 1907, mustaches were all the rage in Europe and strangely, even mandatory for policemen. The idea was that a mustache projected military-style masculinity and authority. At the same time, restaurant servers, were required to stay clean-shaven, a nod to their “lower class” status. This, of course, infuriated the restaurant workers, who did not like being relegated to a “lower class” status. So, behind the scenes, trade unions rallied for workers’ freedom to choose their own facial hair, along with demands for one day off each week and a fair share of tips, 
often their only real income. Surveys went out to unions to settle on dates and times, and once compiled, strike instructions were sent to members.
On April 17, 1907, at exactly 6:30pm, waiters staged a walkout. While the exact number of participants remains uncertain, The New York Times estimated about 500 were striking by late April. Despite some criticism, the waitstaff gained support from prominent figures, including members of Parliament. Socialist Deputy Antide Boyer…who had previously proposed a bill to outlaw mustache bans…called the rule “grotesque and humiliating.” Although his bill never passed, the strike ended swiftly. After 16 days, 
the waiters returned to work without securing a weekly day off, but with a fairer pay system, and most importantly, their mustaches intact. In many ways that was considered more important than anything else.
In a way, it all began in 1860, when mustaches became a requirement in the British Army, with regulations stating, “The chin and the under-lip will be shaved, but not the upper lip.” Prior to that time facial hair had actually been banned, but during the Crimean War (1853–1856), soldiers let their beards grow to protect against the harsh Eastern European cold. When they returned, their bearded look was seen as a mark of heroism, even catching Queen Victoria’s attention. She noted in her journal how the men had long beards and heavy knapsacks, giving a vivid picture of their life in service. From then on, beards became a popular fashion throughout Victorian England. That comment set the stage for the strike that was to come.
Cornelia Arnolda Johanna “Corrie” ten Boom was a Dutch watchmaker who later became a Christian writer and public speaker. She worked alongside her father, Casper; her sister, Betsie; and other family members to help many Jewish people escape the Nazis during World War II by hiding them in their home, even altering the house to create a secret room to hide people in. Unfortunately, they were eventually discovered. Corrie, her father, and her sister were arrested and placed in a concentration camp. Corrie and Betsie were sent to the Ravensbrück concentration camp. Her best-known book, “The Hiding Place,” tells the story of her family’s bravery and how she found and shared hope in God while imprisoned. Corrie was prisoner number 66730 belonged to Corrie ten Boom, and she would later become the only one of her family members to survive the camps. She endured the horrors of the Ravensbrück concentration camp alongside her sister Betsie, surviving the brutal conditions until her unexpected release due to a clerical error…or rather, an act of God!!
Corrie’s life lasted exactly 91 years, which is unusual. She was born on April 15, 1892, and passed away on April 15, 1983. On February 28, 1944, Dutch informant Jan Vogel tipped off the Nazis about the Ten Booms’ activities. Around 12:30pm that day, the entire Ten Boom family was arrested and sent to Scheveningen Prison after Resistance materials and extra ration cards were found in their home. The six people they were hiding…
both Jews and resistance members…remained undiscovered. Even under constant surveillance after the arrest, because police officers who were part of the resistance helped coordinate the refugees’ escape. While in prison, Corrie received a letter saying, “All the watches in your cabinet are safe,” a coded message that the refugees had escaped unharmed. Three days after the raid, resistance workers moved them to new locations. In total, the Gestapo arrested more than 30 people at the Ten Boom home that day. Although the Gestapo released most of the 30 people they arrested that day, Corrie, Betsie, and their father, Casper remained in prison. Casper died ten days later. Corrie was kept in solitary confinement at first, and after three months, she faced her first hearing. During the trial, she spoke about her work with people with mental disabilities, prompting a Nazi lieutenant to scoff, as the Nazis had long been killing such individuals under their eugenics policies. Corrie defended her work, saying that in God’s eyes, a person with a mental disability might be more valuable “than a watchmaker. Or a lieutenant.”
Corrie ten Boom was 51 years old at the time of her arrest. She would spend the next 10 months in prison. While imprisoned at Ravensbrück, Betsie and her sister talked about starting a place of healing after the war. Unfortunately, Betsie’s health deteriorated, she passed away on December 16, 1944, at the age of 59. Before her death, she told Corrie, “There is no pit so deep that He [God] is not deeper still.” Twelve days later, Corrie was released, only to later learn it was due to a clerical error. A week after her release, all the women in her 
age group were sent to the gas chambers. While the Nazis meant to kill her, God had other plans. Overall, Corrie ten Boom and her family bravely helped save about 800 Jews and resistance members by hiding them in that secret room in their home in Haarlem, Netherlands. After the war, she recounted her story of faith, forgiveness, and perseverance in her book “The Hiding Place” and went on to become a renowned international speaker…something I’m sure she never expected.
The article had appeared in the newspapers, announcing that General Ulysses S Grant and his wife Julia would join the President and Mrs Lincoln at Ford’s Theater later that evening. For John Wilkes Booth, the news was “amazing” because he would now have a perfect second assassination target. For the rest of the audience, the news meant they were in for a double treat…seeing not only the President but also the Hero of Appomattox. Little did they know of the sinister plans that were in the making.
Julia Grant wasn’t interested in going, because she didn’t care much for Mary Lincoln. Her husband agreed, understanding that his usually easygoing wife felt uneasy around the high-strung First Lady. In addition, the Grants were eager to get back to their rented house in Burlington, New Jersey, to see their children, whom they hadn’t seen in weeks. To make it easier they said they had business to attend to in Burlington, and they must be on their way.
Around noon, a scruffy-looking man showed up at Julia’s door with what he claimed was a message from Mrs Lincoln. It said the Lincolns would pick up the Grants at exactly 8:00 that evening. Mrs Grant picked up on a bossy tone she didn’t appreciate and told the man to inform Mrs Lincoln they wouldn’t be joining them. In reality, Mrs Lincoln had never sent any message and knew nothing about it. It’s possible that the two women might have been friends were it not for other people, but that’s just my opinion.
Whatever the case may be, the Grants did not end up accompanying the Lincolns that night and quite likely, that saved Ulysses Grant’s life. Had he been there, he would have most likely not survived the evening. In all, 13 other people declined the invitation Mr and Mrs Edwin Stanton, Thomas Eckert, Schuyler Colfax, George Ashmun, Richard J Oglesby, Richard Yates, General Isham N Haynie, William A Howard, Mr and Mrs William H Wallace, Noah Brooks, and even Robert Lincoln, the president’s son. The others had various reasons for declining, but Robert said that He said that as his parents were departing for Ford’s, his dad said, “We’re going 
to the theater, Bob, don’t you want to go?” Captain Lincoln, recently back from his tour of duty with General Grant, wanted to turn in early that night. Twelve-year-old Tad Lincoln remarked that no one had invited him to go along. Instead, he went to see “Aladdin or The Wonderful Lamp” at Grover’s Theatre, just a few blocks from Ford’s. Tad was still at Grover’s when his father was shot at Ford’s, after which he was brought to the White House and put to bed. A number of those who declined could have also been a target, but we will never know. In the end, it was Major Henry Rathbone, and Clara Harris who accompanied President and Mrs Lincoln, although, I’m sure they wished they had not in the end. I’m sure that was a night they could never forget…no matter how much they tried.
The Metropolitan Museum of Art commonly known as the Met, is an encyclopedic art museum that was officially incorporated in New York City on April 13, 1870. By floor area, it is the fourth-largest museum in the world and the largest art museum in the Americas. The museum had a record 5,727,258 visitors in fiscal year 2025. It was the most-visited museum in the United States and the fourth-most visited art museum in the world. Conceived by American expatriates in Paris along with several wealthy New Yorkers, the Met didn’t host its first exhibition until 1872, but it soon grew into one of the world’s leading collections of fine art, a status it still enjoys today.
Back in 1866, a group of American socialites living in Paris, including lawyer John Jay, decided they wanted to create “a national institution and gallery of art.” They reached out to the Union League Club of New York, which pulled together the influence and funding needed to make it happen. On this day in 1870, the city approved 
their Act of Incorporation, requiring that the collection be open to the public year-round and free of charge. Year-round is not unexpected, but to be free of charge is definitely something unusual.
Back in 2000, The Met’s permanent collection boasted over two million works, but now it lists about 1.5 million. The collection is spread across 17 curatorial departments. The main building at 1000 Fifth Avenue, located along Museum Mile on the east side of Central Park in Manhattan’s Upper East Side, is one of the largest art museums in the world by area. The first part of the roughly 2-million-square-foot structure was built in 1880. A smaller second location, The Cloisters in Fort Tryon Park, Upper Manhattan, houses an impressive collection of art, architecture, and artifacts from medieval Europe.
The Met got its first piece, a Roman sarcophagus, in November of its founding year. In 1876, it completed the purchase of the Cesnola Collection of Cypriot Art, cementing its status as North America’s top spot for artifacts and artwork from Antiquity. Taking advantage of the Franco-Prussian War, Jay acquired an impressive 174 works by Dutch Old Masters in 1871, giving the museum a strong collection before it even opened its first location in 1872. By 1880, a decade after its founding, the Met had moved to its current home on Fifth Avenue 
at 82nd Street. Today, it showcases some of the largest collections of European and Antique art, along with pieces from every continent and in nearly every medium. It’s not just a leading cultural hub in New York, but also one of the world’s most famous and visited museums, welcoming around 7 million visitors each year.
My sister-in-law, Jennifer Parmely knew her calling with the birth of her first son, Barry Schulenberg. From the moment he arrived, Jennifer began working toward her nursing degree, and within two years she was a labor and delivery nurse. Jennifer also drove herself to the hospital when her second pregnancy turned into a bit of an emergency. Nevertheless, her son JD Parmely was born healthy and well, as was her third son, Erik Parmely. As to her career, there is no way to say exactly how many babies Jennifer assisted in their entry into the world, but I know that four of them were my grandchildren, Chris Petersen, Shai Royce, Caalab Royce, and Josh Petersen. Jennifer’s nursing career was long and exciting and finally came to an end when Jennifer retired on February 28, 2023. She had been in healthcare since she was 17 years old…first as a candy striper, then as a CNA (as required by the nursing school at that time), and then as a labor and delivery nurse.
Since her retirement, she still spends time with children quite a bit. She has three granddaughters and a grandson, all of whom love to spend time with their Oma, especially if they can spend the night. Jennifer especially loves to spend time one-on-one with the kids, so they can each do things that they are specifically interested in. The kids are 13, 11, 8, and 6, so their interests vary greatly, and sometimes it’s just nice to get away from siblings. I know that Jennifer is a blessing to her son, Eric and his wife too. She sometimes picks the kids up from school when their parents are working and keeps them until they get off work. It takes a load off of working parents and pleases Jennifer and the kids too.
Of course, not all of Jennifer’s time is spent with children. She and her partner, Brian Cratty own a cabin on 
Casper Mountain, and they love spending time up there throughout the year. They love hiking, skiing, and just relaxing at the cabin. The kids all love to go up to for picnics, holidays, hiking, skiing and whatever everyone comes up with. Prior to her retirement, Jennifer’s time on the mountain was more limited. Now, she is free to go up as often as she wants, and since their house in town isn’t that far from the base of the mountain, it’s just a quick trip up there. Jennifer is very much enjoying her retirement. Today is Jennifer’s birthday. Happy 65th birthday Jennifer!! Have a great day!! We love you!!
With the many volcanic eruptions we hear about every day, I find it hard to fathom a statement like “the most powerful volcanic eruption in human history,” but on April 10, 1815, an eruption began in earnest in Indonesia, involving the Tambora volcano. The eruption sent ash 20 miles into the atmosphere and boiling liquified rock streaming down its slopes. The “cacophony of explosions” echoed for hundreds of miles, and within hours, nearby villages vanished, forests were reduced to ash, and massive rivers of lava surged into the sea, reshaping the island’s coastline.
Tambora, located on Sumbawa Island at the eastern edge of the Indonesian archipelago, had shown no volcanic activity for thousands of years before its massive 1815 eruption. Beginning to rumble on April 5, the volcano erupted with such force that it directly killed nearly 100,000 people and indirectly caused tens of millions more deaths worldwide. It was the largest eruption ever recorded, darkening the skies for days as ash blocked out the sun, causing massive local destruction and triggering the global “Year Without a Summer.” The eruption reached its climax on April 10, 
1815, producing a Volcanic Explosivity Index (VEI) of 7, ejecting 37–45 km³ of dense-rock equivalent material into the atmosphere. In 1816, the massive amount of ash was characterized by unusually cold temperatures, frosts, and snow during summer months in the Northern Hemisphere. Europe experienced crop failures, food shortages, and famine, while North America saw persistent “dry fog,” frost, and poor harvests. Asia, including China and India, suffered disrupted monsoons, flooding, and famine. The global temperature drop is estimated at 0.7–1 °F on average. Flaming debris hitting the surrounding ocean created steam explosions, and the force of the blast triggered a moderate tsunami. So much rock and ash were expelled that Tambora collapsed into itself, reducing its height from 14,000 feet to 9,000 feet. After the eruption ended, a caldera spanning some 3.7 miles across remained.
The massive explosions were heard hundreds of miles away, prompting rulers to dispatch their armies, 
convinced a military invasion was imminent. Tambora’s eruptions had a global impact, spewing enough ash into the atmosphere to lower temperatures for the next year and create stunningly colorful sunsets around the world. The eruption was blamed for snow and frost in New England during June and July of that summer. About ten thousand people died directly from the eruptions, most on Sumbawa Island, while in the following months over 80,000 more perished in the surrounding regions from starvation caused by crop failures and disease. A widespread cholera outbreak linked to the eruption claimed countless additional lives.
It seems like every year there’s a day in early spring, usually around mid-April, that I can only call Slap Day. Not that anyone should actually slap someone, or that the weather makes you want to, although maybe it does, when someone chirps, “We need the moisture,” in defense of a snowstorm. Sure, we all know we need it, but couldn’t it just snow in the mountains and rain down here? Isn’t that what spring is supposed to bring? Rain! I get that the weather isn’t their fault and they’re just trying to stay positive, but it’s so frustrating when, after enjoying blooming crocuses and daffodils and watching the yard turn green, everything suddenly disappears under a mountain of snow. And every time it happens, our morale plummets into the depths of snow. No self-respecting flower would dare emerge on Slap Day anyway…they’re too delicate!
Every year, we know to simply “expect” Slap Day, but even more bizarre than the idea of “accepting” Slap Day is the idea that Slap Day may not happen. When Winter plays such a cruel trick on Spring, I want to draw the line, but not in exchange for a Summer of water rationing. Winter normally bullies all of us already. It’s just too much, when Winter refuses to take it’s turn and provide us with the necessary moisture to prevent the need for Slap Day. That is just as wrong as Slap Day itself!! Winter simply didn’t do its job this year. I hate snow as much as the next guy, but I also know that there is a time for rain and a time for snow. This past Winter wasn’t just fairly mild. It was almost non-existent, and we really needed quite a bit more snow…much as I hate to say it.
While there are few things I hate more than Slap Day, I really do hate a year of praying for no wildfires, no dry lightning storms, and even no rainy lightning storms, because lightning in a year void of a real Winter means a big chance of wildfires. So, while I would normally be ranting about Slap Day, should it arrive, I would probably actually welcome it this year, provided it didn’t bring with it a bunch of flooding. Slap Day suddenly seems very important to the welfare of the entire state. In fact, a couple of Slap Days, followed by a rainy Sprin would be very nice, again provided we didn’t get so much moisture that we got flooding. I suppose it would seem like I’m being rather picky, and I suppose I am, but I just want us to have a nice Spring and Summer. Is that so much to ask?
April 8, 1945, dawned like any other mission day in the closing stages of World War II. The crew of Wee Willie, a B-17G was part of a mission of the Allied forces to launch a barrage of air raids over Germany. Their mission was an attempt to destroy the country’s manufacturing facilities and lessen the morale of its citizens. There were two main dangers that faced the B-17s that flew missions over Germany. The first was the Luftwaffe and the second the flak guns. The entire incident was captured on film by an automatic strike camera aboard another B-17 involved in the raid. Of Wee Willie’s nine-man crew, only 1st Lieutenant Robert E Fuller survived, with reports stating that the first explosion blew him out of the cockpit. After which he managed to open his parachute and land safely on the ground, he was immediately taken prisoner by the Germans. After the war, Fuller never discussed the photo or the crash with the media or the public. He remained in the Air Force until 1950, earning a promotion to Captain. After his service, he worked at Rockwell International for 18 years. Later, he settled in Hemet, California, where he passed away in 1986. Captain Fuller was married twice, to Jann Keyes Biggs and Vivian Pearson, and had one son, Ronald, who predeceased him.
Wee Willie, a B-17G-15-B0 with serial number 42-31333, was the 302nd B-17G Flying Fortress built at Boeing’s Plant 2 in Seattle, Washington. Delivered to the US Army Air Forces in Cheyenne, Wyoming, in October 1943, it was soon sent to RAF Bassingbourn in Cambridgeshire, United Kingdom. There, it joined the 322nd Bombardment Squadron, 91st Bombardment Group, 1st Air Division, 8th Air Force. By the time it was shot down, Wee Willie was the oldest B-17G still flying with the 91st and the second-to-last lost to enemy action before Germany’s surrender.
On April 8, 1945, the B-17G, Wee Willie took off from Air Force Station 121 at RAF Bassingbourn for either its 128th or 129th mission. In command was US Army Air Forces 1st Lieutenant Robert E Fuller. In addition to Fuller, the only surviving crew member, were Sergeant Le Moyne Miller, 2nd Lieutenant Woodrow A Lien, Staff Sergeant James D Houtchens, Tech Sergeant Francis J McCarthy, Staff Sergeant Ralf J Leffelman, Staff Sergeant Wylie McNatt Jr, and Staff Sergeant William H Cassiday making up the rest of the combat crew. German anti-aircraft fire caused minor damage to 13 Allied bombers and major damage to four more. Out of the 73 that participated, only two were completely lost, one being the B-17G Wee Willie. It was hit by 88mm flak between its Number 2 engine and bomb bay, sending it straight into a vertical dive. A witness described the 
aftermath of the strike, stating, “The fuselage was on fire, and after it fell about 5,000 feet, the left wing broke off. It kept descending, and when it was roughly 3,000 feet from the ground, it exploded, then exploded again upon impact.” Many planes were shot down during World War II, and many were brought down by flak, but not all were caught on camera in such a dramatic and horrific way. The fate of Wee Willie will remain in my mind. I can only imagine the terror they felt as they fell from the sky.
