Category Archives: Transhuman News

"One of the other firsts that we've done here at General Motors is we put the first lunar rover on the Moon," said Brent Deep, chief developmental engineer for the joint program between GM and Lockheed Martin. "We're proud to be able to supply the first rover [...] It's very humbling for me to be a part of [the rover's history], and to look at what [the Lunar Roving Vehicle engineers] did back in the Sixties to develop that rover for a really unknown environment."

Fast-forward to today, GM and Lockheed Martin are gunning for the big contract with NASA to build the Lunar Terrain Vehicle. Unlike the partnership between the General and Boeing, which was more to determine if driving on the Moon was even possible, the new partnership takes the knowledge gained from the LRV as part of the foundation in building a ride for the long-term. After all, the main mission of the Artemis program is to establish a base of operations on the Moon's South Pole, the first step in the push to colonization of the Solar System and beyond, with Mars as the next step.

Of course, it's going to take a lot to get there from here. Luckily for GM and Lockheed Martin, the key piece of the puzzle is already being drip-fed into showrooms. But we're getting ahead of ourselves here; we've got a simulator to check out first.

Original post:
Moon Off-Roading In The Wild GM Electric Car That Makes Hummer EV Look Normal - SlashGear

HAMPTON Detonations echoed across the Back River as dynamite planted under tree stumps liberated them from the loamy swamp. Away from the blasts, the chatter of men filling in craters mingled with the sounds of axes chopping and saws gnawing at Virginia pines.

And 105 years ago, the construction of the flying field in Hampton had begun.

The U.S. government had acquired the swath of land once a closely knit neighborhood of plantations between the branches of the Back River in Elizabeth City County for the militarys first installation devoted to air power. On the fringes of the Army airfield, the first laboratories of NASAs predecessor, the National Advisory Committee for Aeronautics, were born.

Today, the chest-rattling roar of the F-22 Raptors thunders above Langley Air Force Base, which employs some 15,000 airmen and 5,000 civilians. It is the headquarters of Air Combat Command and home of the 1st Fighter Wing and 633rd Air Base Wing. The neighboring NASA Langley Research Center plays a critical role in the U.S. space program and has contributed to the first manned missions to the moon.

Perhaps lesser known but no less fascinating are the people who lived on Langley before it was Langley. Their gravestones still rest alongside military housing; the name of a plantation remains on buildings. Their stories include conquest and colonization, revolution and a daring slave escape, Civil War blunders and federal land buyers in disguise.

The second Shellbanks farmhouse, built by Hampton Institute in 1902 after fire destroyed the first, has been preserved as Langley Air Force Bases Building 90. (SSgt Gabriel Macdonald/U.S. Air Force photo)

Stop reader stop! Let Nature claim a Tear. A Mothers last and only Child lies here.

Thats the epitaph on the gravestone of Frances Hollier, who died at age 16 in 1798. She rests next to her younger sister, Ann, who died two years earlier at age 12. Their marble stones are shaded by trees among brick houses in what is still called the bases Lighter-Than-Air area from which massive airships such as the Roma once lumbered above Hampton Roads.

Another burial ground is more prominently displayed in the parking lot of the bases Riverview Event Center once the Officers Club where the Sherwood plantation house once stood. There, a set of plaques marks the remains of the Booker family along with a few other notable names: Marshall, Armistead, Von Schilling, Houseman and Jones.

Then theres Shellbank. The name is on the Shellbank Gym and on the out-of-service Shellbank Pool, and in common use it refers to a section of the base that stretches from the King Street Bridge to LaSalle Avenue.

The name conjures images of seagulls dropping oysters from lofty heights to crack them on the granite rip rap that lines the Back River. But Shellbank derives from Shellbanks, or Shell Banks. Old names for a plantation.

An unused postcard shows the Hampton Normal and Agricultrual Institute's Shellbanks Industrial Home on what is now Langley Air Force Base. Built in the early 1900s, the farmhouse served as a dormitory and classroom and has been preserved as the base's Building 90. (Courtesy of Hampton History Museum)

In 1621, Capt. Thomas Purifoy boarded the George, leaving his home in Leicestershire for a rapidly transforming Elizabeth City County an occasion noted by a plaque in the Sherwood burial plot.

The Virginia Company of London was sending settlers to the New World to find wealth and a shortcut to China.

They were colonizing an area that had been occupied for 12,000 years by Indigenous peoples. By the 1600s, Powhatan tribes such as the Kecoughtan farmed the wooded banks of the rivers that split Hampton the town formed there in 1610.

Two years before Purifoy set sail, a privateer named the White Lion docked at nearby Old Point Comfort and delivered a cargo hold of Africans beginning the slave trade in the colonies.

Elsewhere on the Virginia Peninsula, tensions between the English, who had settled Jamestown in 1607, and the Indigenous tribes were simmering. The colonists had become increasingly dependent on the Powhatan confederation for food and as an early warning system for anticipated attacks from Spain. The tribes relied on the English for metal tools and technology.

But the tribes soon realized the colonists were not here to trade. They wanted the land.

Purifoy arrived in Virginia months before the Indian Massacre of 1622 and enlisted as a commander in the second Anglo-Powhatan War, which lasted until 1632. He served in several capacities for Elizabeth City County, and by 1635 King Charles I granted him a 2,000-acre plot of land on the eastern side of what is now Langley Air Force Base.

This combo image shows a portion of the 1892 Semple Map and a Google Maps screenshot of present-day Langley Air Force Base. (Library of Congress/Google Maps screenshot)

By the 1630s, a sweet-tasting strain of tobacco developed by Jamestown settler John Rolfe was wildly popular in Europe, and the plant had become the No. 1 cash crop in Virginia. The town of Hampton was a port central to this trade.

But tobacco quickly depleted the soil and many families eventually began raising corn, wheat, alfalfa and barley.

Purifoys land was split into two plantations, with Shellbanks descending to the Lowry family and Sherwood going to the Hand-Marshall-Booker line. Other settlers established plantations in the area, including John Layden, who around 1609 became the father of the first child of English parentage born in Virginia, and Benjamin Syms, who founded the first free school in America around 1647.

George Wythe (New York Public Library)

Perhaps the most prominent farm was Chesterville, first patented by Thomas Wythe in 1676. Ruins of the plantation house still stand on NASAs Langley Research Center.

George Wythe was born on Chesterville in 1726 and became one of the nations founding fathers and a framer of the U.S. Constitution. He studied at William & Mary and became the schools first professor of law.

Wythe represented Virginia in the Continental Congress and at the Constitutional Convention in Philadelphia. He even helped design the state seal. In 1776, he was among the first to sign the Declaration of Independence.

The Revolutionary War had raged for nearly six years when, in March 1781, a British force of about 400 sailed up the Back River.

Led by Lt. Col. Thomas Dundas, the troops landed at the mouth of Wythe Creek near present-day NASA and marched north toward an American outpost in the Tabb area. The redcoats were later met by a patriot force of about 40 men, led by Col. Francis Mallory of Hampton, in the area now known as Big Bethel. Mallory died in the skirmish, which ended in a British victory.

Seven months later and just 15 miles north, the British surrendered to Gen. George Washington at Yorktown.

According to family legend, Washington paid several visits to John Lowry at Shellbanks during his stay on the Virginia Peninsula.

Wythe had moved to Williamsburg before the Revolution and was an absentee landowner in Elizabeth City County; Lowry was one of its largest resident farmers. Lowrys 525 acres included 100 head of cattle and a substantial dairy operation along with three boats, more than 20 horses and at least 12 enslaved people. Lowry contributed to the patriot cause, according to public records, exchanging 2,400 pounds of beef for 30 British pounds.

This cyanotype photo shows the Sherwood plantation house around 1892. The home served as a barracks and then a guard house before being razed in the 1920s for the site of the Officers' Club now the Riverview Event Center. The photo was taken by Charles Herbert Hewins or Jesse Andrus Hewins, possibly for Hampton Institute's Camera Club. (Courtesy of Hampton History Museum)

Next door at the Sherwood plantation, George Booker filed a claim to recover expenses for 30 pounds of bacon and 252 pounds of beef provided to American troops. He was a prominent landowner who served in the House of Delegates and as a high sheriff and a county court justice. He was able to generate wealth and power on the backs of the 27 enslaved people who farmed his plantation.

This draft of a deposition given by Paul D. Luke, the Old Point Comfort lighthouse keeper, describes fugitive slaves of Catherine Lowry enlisting into British service during occupation in the War of 1812. The document reads: "between the fourth and tenth of July 1813 while the British troops had possession of Old P. comfort where I resided as keeper of the light House I saw three young Negro Men who I was told had just come in standing together in company with several Soldiers I walk'd up to them and ask'd where they were from and who they had belong'd to they said they were from back River and belong'd to the Widow Lowry I afterward heard a British officer ask them the same questions and receive the same answer the next day Capt Stewart of the first or second Batalion of the Royal marine Corps who commanded the Guard upon the point came up stairs into a room adjoining where I was after seating himself at a table he order'd his servant to go and tell serjeant such a one to bring one of those black fellows up when the fellow came the Capt ask'd him his name and whether he chose to enlist as a Sailor or Soldier he said as a Soldier his name was immediately taken down and the Serjeant was order'd to go down with him and bring up another and in succession a third was brought all of whom enter'd as Soldiers these were the same fellows I spoke to the Day before as mention'd above they all answer'd to the name of Lowry but I do not recollect the Christian names (...) them which was Randal as the (...)" The document is cut off at the bottom. (Courtesy of Dr. Jean Marshall von Schilling and Martha Booker, in memory of Hunter Russell Booker & Martha Chisman Booker/Courtesy of Hampton History Museum)

Paul D. Luke was the lighthouse keeper on Old Point Comfort while it was under control of the British during the War of 1812.

In July 1813, he spotted an unusual sight: Three young Black men and two Black women in the company of several soldiers.

The three men said they were enslaved fugitives from Back River and answered to the name Lowry. One woman belonged to the widow Catherine Lowry of Shellbanks; the other, to George Booker of Sherwood.

The men enlisted as soldiers with the Royal Marines, according to Lukes account, but the fate of the two women isnt documented.

Though Congress banned the trans-Atlantic slave trade starting in 1808, the domestic slave trade continued until the end of the Civil War. Some 21,000 enslaved people were shipped from Hampton, Norfolk and Portsmouth to the cotton mecca of New Orleans between 1819 and 1860, according to the Historic New Orleans Collection research center.

Rarely could enslaved people expect to spend their life on one farm among the same people, according to a 1975 dissertation on Elizabeth City County by Sarah Shaver Hughes, then a Ph.D. candidate at the College of William & Mary.

For the slaves of the post-revolutionary generation, as for the free people, life was more likely to yield disruption and discontinuity than tranquil attachment to one place and group of people, Shaver Hughes wrote, though with the difference that for the slave these changes were imposed, not chosen.

Even the enslaved people who remained faced the prospect of being sold or rented out to other families.

You suffered the horror of having your children, spouse, parents, siblings, beloved friends sold from you, never to see them again, historian, author and Norfolk State University professor Colita Nichols Fairfax said in an interview.

Still, Black labor was different in Elizabeth City County than in places such as New Orleans.

The farms were smaller than the massive sugar and cotton plantations of the deep South. Overseers werent necessary because the enslaved workers had a considerable understanding of their animals and crops, Shaver Hughes wrote.

Free Blacks also had more privileges than in the rest of the antebellum South thanks to their skilled labor, the demise of tobacco farming and intermixing with white families.

But when it came to basic necessities, enslaved people most often had to fend for themselves. This would include clothing made from fabric scraps, furniture built from leftover materials, improvised medical care and diets centered on food that whites didnt want.

This June 29, 1861, Harper's Weekly illustration shows the 5th New York Infantry, also known as Duryee's Zouaves, during an assault on the Confederate position at Big Bethel. (Courtesy of the Casemate Museum)

In June 1861, Union Gen. Benjamin Butler and Maj. Theodore Winthrop led two columns of some 3,500 Union soldiers toward the slave-built Confederate earthworks at Big Bethel which today is the site of a recreational park and some off-base housing owned by Langley.

The troops coming from Hampton and Newport News were to converge and launch a surprise attack at dawn.

But the Hampton force mistook their Newport News counterparts for rebel troops. A skirmish ensued. The gunfire signaled to Confederate Cols. D.H. Hill and John B. Magruder that an attack was imminent, allowing them to rally their troops. And after a three-hour battle, the Southern forces repelled the Yankees, allowing the Confederates to retain control of much of the Peninsula.

But the Union troops maintained their stronghold at Fort Monroe, and by August, Magruder ordered the town of Hampton burned to keep it from falling into enemy hands.

Robert S. Hudgins II grew up on the Lamington (or Lambington) plantation, which bordered Sherwood, and later witnessed the establishment of Langley Field on his land. He served as a sergeant in the 3rd Virginia Cavalry for the Confederate army, fought in the Battle of Big Bethel and saw the burning of Hampton from an area called Sinclairs Corner near the southwest end of what is now Fox Hill Road.

Hudgins later recounted his experiences at Kellys Ford, Chancellorsville, Gettysburg, Yellow Tavern and Appomattox in the book Recollections of an Old Dominion Dragoon.

More destruction followed when Union Maj. Gen. George B. McClellan landed his army at Fort Monroe and embarked northwest on the Peninsula campaign.

George Booker of Sherwood served as a major in the Confederate army under Magruder. He fell ill and resigned his commission. As Union troops ransacked the Peninsula, Booker and his family fled to Petersburg.

Thomas Whiting Lowry, at age 68, remained on Shellbanks. His granddaughter, Eliza C. Fletcher, described a night in 1861 when Union troops took him from his home without time to put on shoes then carried him by boat across the Back River. They forced him to walk 5 miles to Old Point Comfort to take an oath of loyalty to the Union.

They had ransacked the place after he left, Fletcher recounted in a family newsletter. There were several ladies in the family and one boy whose sister put him under her bolster so they wouldnt find him when they searched the room.

(Courtesy of the Air Combat Command History Office)

When Robert Hudgins returned from the war, the Lamington farm was a wreck.

Fences were down and four years growth of weeds and saplings had nearly reclaimed what was once some of the most fertile farmland in the region, he recounted. The house had fallen into disrepair. ... Only a few of the slaves had remained; the rest, having been freed by the Emancipation Proclamation, had scattered to the four winds.

Hudgins made an agreement with the remaining freed slaves to stay and help salvage the farm in exchange for housing and food until some money could be made.

One of George Bookers daughters, Mollie, remained at Sherwood with her husband, a German named Franz Wilhelm von Schilling. They tried farming again, but the fields had been neglected and livestock depleted. They moved to the Washington, D.C., area.

Meanwhile, Franzs brother Louis von Schilling stayed on the Shellbanks plantation and attempted to plant white Dinkel wheat and fruit trees sent from Germany. The crops failed, and Louis was evicted in 1872. But descendants of the von Schillings remained in Hampton. They included Ilma von Schilling, who was a principal of the Syms-Eaton Academy, and U.S. Army Col. Leopold Marshall Winks von Schilling. A road in Hamptons Coliseum Central district bears the familys name.

In 1875, Thomas Tabb a lawyer who was one of the largest landowners in Elizabeth City County bought the Shellbanks tract and three years later sold it to Boston philanthropist Mary Tileston Hemenway.

She in turn donated the land to the Hampton Normal and Agricultural Institute, which was founded in 1868 with the mission to educate Blacks whose population in Hampton had boomed after the Civil War and later Native Americans.

The school used Shellbanks for hands-on and experimental agricultural education. The Shellbanks farmhouse served as a dormitory and classroom until it burned down in 1902. Hampton Institute built a new farmhouse that has since been preserved as Air Force Building 90.

The same year as Hemenways donation of Shellbanks, a couple named Junius and Lucy Jones bought the Sherwood tract. They sold it in 1881 to James Sands Darling, a prominent oysterman and entrepreneur.

By that time, oyster farming and aquaculture were playing a vital role in the rebuilding of Hampton.

Local historian, preservationist and author John Quarstein called Darling, who was born in New York and moved to Elizabeth City County after the Civil War, a visionary industrialist and one of the largest oyster producers in the world. Darling also invested heavily in the menhaden and lumber industries, along with trolleys and a hotel.

He had to own everything he could that made his industry successful, Quarstein said in an interview. Hes one of those carpetbaggers that then became the gentry.

Darlings son, Frank, inherited the farm before the U.S. government took interest in the land in 1916.

This aerial photo of Langley Field is dated March 10, 1920. Construction of the base had begun in earnest just three years earlier. At the lower right is the King Street Bridge. (Courtesy of Hampton History Museum)

The military was looking for land near Fort Monroe that was convenient for over-water flying with a proximity to industry, as well as a temperate climate.

So a group of federal investigators dressed themselves as hunters and fishermen to prowl and survey the Sherwood tract without revealing the governments interest in purchasing it.

The ruse didnt work.

Three men with political ties Harry H. Holt, H.R. Booker and Nelson S. Groome learned of the governments interest and bought options on the land encompassing Sherwood, Lamington, Tide Mill, Downing Farm and portions of others.

The men then lobbied the government to build its airfield there and sold it to the Army in 1916 for $290,000 (about $8.1 million in todays dollars).

They did it quietly and they did it essentially, surreptitiously. They made no noise about it, said Wythe Holt, a local historian and the grandson of Harry H. Holt. And it was a bonanza for them.

By 1917, Hamptons Gannaway-Hudgins Co. began flattening the landscape to accommodate a pair of runways for the flying machines.

A large portion of that land which hadnt been farmed was still thickly wooded marsh.

One of the first arrivals at the airfield described the grounds:

Natures greatest ambition was to produce in this, her cesspool, the muddiest mud, the weediest weeds, the dustiest dust and the most ferocious mosquitoes the world has ever seen. Her plans were so well formulated and adhered to that she far surpassed her wildest hopes and desires.

The Sherwood plantation house served as a barracks and then a guard house before being razed in the 1920s to make way for the Officers Club.

The Shellbanks farm remained the property of Hampton Institute until 1941. The feds had paid for portions of the land to accommodate a road and a large ditch, but bought the remaining 770-acre tract consisting of Shellbanks, Canebrake and Elmwood on Feb. 26 of that year for $155,000 ($3.2 million today).

Meanwhile, Langleys influence on the region was well underway.

Mike Cobb, who retired as the Hampton History Museums founding curator, described the sweep of history during an interview.

The Hampton that had existed for so long is forever changed by the advent of technology, the modern age, he said. And in no other place in Elizabeth City County is that more striking than what is Langley today.

Some of the volumes consulted for this story. (Matt Cahill)

The son of two Air Force veterans, Matt Cahill researches genealogy and for several years has worked maintaining the grounds at Langley Air Force Base.

Matt Cahill, matthew.cahill@pilotonline.com

Original post:
Before Langley Air Force Base: The muddy history of Shellbanks, Sherwood and other plantations of Elizabeth City County - Daily Press

In a new collection of poetry, Open Zero, Pakistani-American poet Sophia Naz explores her grief over the loss of her Glen Ellen, California, home.

In 2017, dangerous wildfires raged across California, burning forests, businesses, and houses, including the one where Naz lived with her husband and son.

Yale Climate Connections talked with Naz about how she uses poetry to process her personal tragedy and to reflect on the consequences of climate change.

This interview has been edited and condensed for clarity.

Yale Climate Connections: Tell me a little bit about your home.

Sophia Naz: Glen Ellen is a tiny little village. Its nestled in the beautiful valley called the Valley of the Moon. Its also part of the wine country of California. And we fell in love with this house because it was kind of a tree house. All the trees were growing all around it, and some of them were growing through its decks, so we were attracted to it. And so we bought this place in 2010 and then in 2017 is when the wildfires struck.

YCC: Can you tell me what happened when the fires came through?

Naz: I usually work at night, and I had built a little office cabin across from the main house where I was sitting and working. And around 10 oclock at night, when I opened the sliding glass doors, there was a very strong smell of smoke in the air. But I couldnt see any smoke. And I checked my phone to see whats going on, but there was no alert. Sometimes there are wildfires, but theyre far away, and the smoke comes from far away. So in the absence of an alert, I didnt know what to do, so I didnt do anything. I went to bed, but I couldnt really sleep, felt a bit restless.

And then around 2 oclock in the morning, the fire truck came up our lane with the megaphone saying, The fires coming at your home, and you need to leave. You need to evacuate right now. So I woke up our son, whos 14. And then we piled into the car and we left, and that was the last time I saw my home.

YCC: When you went back, was there anything left?

Naz: No, not of the house. I work as a healer. I work in traditional medicine from India. So we had renovated our old barn into a wellness center. So that was untouched by the fire. And we had a yurt on the lower part of our property. That had not been burned. And the swimming pool was there. But that was all that was left.

We did decide to, out of sheer necessity because our workplace was not burnt, to move back. And we bought a trailer. And living in the destroyed landscape was really instructive as well. Because then you realize that its not just your home thats been destroyed, its the home of all the living beings. The loss of one life form ripples out and destroys the habitat of all the other life forms.

Left: Nazs home in Glen Ellen, California, before it was destroyed in a 2017 wildfire. Right: The aftermath. (Photos: Courtesy of Sophia Naz)

YCC: Did what you were seeing around you after you moved back begin to work its way into your poetry?

Naz: Absolutely. One part of my book Open Zero is about the everyday ground realities of loss, the changed landscape the burned redwoods, the destroyed manzanitas, all of the ecology that has been so devastated. And in a way, Open Zero, part of it refers to Im living on ground zero of the loss.

YCC: Can you talk about the emotions you began wrestling with after the fire?

Naz: The immediate emotion that one feels is grief, and then the grief gives way to the feeling of loss. And those two are not exactly the same things, because grief is an immediate emotion, and loss a larger perception.

So losing my home to the wildfires, it crystallized the linkages between topics that I had written about previously as separate things like geography, history, politics, migration, racism, feminism, power structures. When you lose your home, it gives you this immediacy, an urgency, and it broadens your perspective.

These things are inextricably linked, because without the colonization of North America, and without the view of the Earth as simply a resource to be plundered and then the idea that you simply needed to remove the obstacles to that plundering, that is, the Native inhabitants without this world view, and without the enormous wealth that white settler colonialism accumulated, you wont have the current dispensation, right? So all of these things are inextricably linked.

YCC: Was writing Open Zero cathartic?

Naz: Of course. Writing is an absolute cathartic process. [Another writer] has said that writing is a way to avenge the loss. Because there are many ways in which one can avenge loss. Some people do it by singing, some people do it by painting. But if youre a writer, one of the most potent means of doing it is through writing, because it is through writing that one can recreate, as if conjuring out of thin air, a landscape that no longer exists. Because it does exist in your mind. And you can bring what exists in your mind, in your memory, and you can put it down on paper and resurrect it again in a way.

Listen: Poet Sophia Naz grieves after a wildfire took her home

YCC: Its been a few years since the fire. Has the landscape recovered?

Naz: In my home, there were 32 large trees. Im talking trees that were over 100 years old. This is not something that can be replaced and certainly will not be replaced in my lifetime. And that is just the devastating truth about climate change, the climate crisis. Behind me, as I speak, is a hillock or mound of earth where my previous house stood. The earth was rendered too unstable to build where it was built before. So we built slightly below it. So as a result, I see this pile of earth, rubble, every day. Theres a few scattered pieces of scrub growing on it, but its a perverse kind of thing. Its only partially covered by the scrub and a few grasses, but it stubbornly remains as a reminder of everything that has gone.

YCC: And knowing that youre still in the midst of this drought, and that climate change is only likely to bring more severe droughts and fires, you still made the choice to stay there. What is it like living there now?

Naz: Honestly, I dont know how long I will be able to sustain this choice, because it is getting more and more worrisome by the day, really. For now, were here and I do love being here, even though its traumatic.

Weve evacuated twice since the initial fire, and its been absolutely terrifying. There is definitely PTSD in in my life at the moment. And honestly, I do think about moving away, because Im not sure that Ill be able to sustain it literally, physically, and psychologically. It continues to take a toll on me, because every time theres a fire alarm, you can imagine what happens to my heartbeat. Its a palpable reality.

It would be a very strange thing to say that loss is a gift. But I think the gift is the realization that every day of your life is enormously precious. And in a way, its all that you have. All that you will ever know is right this minute. And as a poet, that is an enormous gift, because it changes the way that you view everything around you, and your own being, and all your relationships with the environment, with people.

YCC: Is there a poem from your book that youd be willing to share?

Naz: This poem is called After, Math.

Go here to see the original:
A conversation with a poet whose home burned to the ground - Yale Climate Connections