Remembering Maggi Kerr Peirce

I first met Maggi in 2003. It was at the opening celebration for the 2009 General assembly of the Unitarian Universalist Association, held that year in Boston. I went up into the balcony of the venue, where it was less crowded and I could be closer to the stage. I sat down next to a friendly-looking gray-haired woman, who soon struck up a conversation. We quickly discovered that we had both been born Unitarians — she into the Belfast, Ireland, Unitarian church, and I into the Concord, Massachusetts, Unitarian church (I was born just before merger with the Universalists, so it was still a Unitarian church). Next we discovered that we had a common acquaintance: I knew Maggi’s son, Hank, from theological school. By this time, we were chatting like old friends.

A month later I started a new job on the West coast. But two years later, I was lucky enough to be called as the minister of the New Bedford, Mass., Unitarian church, where Maggi was a key lay leader. In my four years in New Bedford, I grew to respect Maggi more and more. She was a skilled musician with an excellent ear. She valued education, and returning to college in her forties to complete her bachelor’s degree. She helped found Tryworks Coffeehouse in 1967 as a way to reach out to youth, and I heard over and over again how she had changed young people’s lives in her two decades running Tryworks. She was also the kind of lay leader a minister dreams of: she only gave compliments when they were deserved, so they really meant something; and when she had to let the minister (me) know that I had fallen short, she did so in a way that helped me do better the next time. Perhaps that was what I appreciated most about Maggi — she knew that people could do better, she wanted to help them do better, and she had some good strategies to encourage people to achieve more than they thought they could.

Maggi’s list of accomplishments is kind of stunning. There’s that college degree in midlife, and those twenty years directing Tryworks Coffeehouse. She was perhaps best known as a storyteller, receiving a Lifetime Achievement Award from the National Storytellers Alliance, but she was also a folksinger. She performed at the Smithsonian, the Newport Folk Festival, the Philadelphia Folk Festival, regularly at the Indian Neck Folk Festival, and on the old Prairie Home Companion radio show. I believe she also performed with Christmas Revels. She published her poetry in the local newspaper, and I especially remember a poem she wrote about the September 11 attacks. She published three books of stories, plus a memoir of her Belfast childhood in 2013, titled A Belfast Girl. She served as president of the board of First Unitarian in New Bedford, and president of that congregaiton’s Women’s Alliance. I honestly don’t understand how one person could be that accomplished, and have that much time and energy.

After I left the New Bedford church, I did what ministers are supposed to do, and I kept my contacts with congregants to an absolute minimum. But I was fortunate enough to see Maggi one more time. When Karen LeBlanc was installed as the minister of New Bedford a year or so ago, she asked me to come and give the prayer. Maggi was there (of course), and I got to talk with her briefly at the reception afterwards. Then in her nineties, she was just as charismatic, just as sunny, just as pleasant to talk with as always. That brief interaction left me standing a little straighter, and making me feel that I could keep doing better in my life. That’s the kind of person Maggi was.

More about Maggi — an obituary at First Unitarian of New Bedfordaudio of a talk she gave in 2009 about Tryworks2016 profile on The Wanderer.

International U/U Collaboration

I went searching for the new website of the International Unitarian/Universalist Collaboration. My favorite search engine didn’t bring it up, but fortunately there was a link from a recent online article in UU World magazine. Here’s their current site.

It’s an informative and well-designed site. I’m glad to see that the worldwide chalice lightings are there, too.

Now I just wish someone would update the Wikipedia page for the International Council of Unitarians and Universalists. And while they’re at it, maybe create a page for the IU/UC.

(This was supposed to be posted a week ago, but I hit “Draft” instead of “Publish.” Sorry about that.)

“Moss camp”

I’m attending a week-long seminar on bryophytes at a natural history institute in coastal Maine — which I like to refer to as “moss camp.” We go out collecting for an hour or so, then spend the rest of the day in the lab trying to figure out what we’ve collected. I spend about equal amounts of time staring through a microscope, and poring through dichotomous keys.

Identifying bryophyts has proved to be challenging. To begin with, the dichotomous keys can be frustrating. They use terms like “complicate-bilobed” and phrases like “Leaves keeled and conduplicate.” Different dichotomous keys sometimes use different terms for exactly the same characteristic. Then there are taxa which are frustrating — to identify Sphagnum moss to species, our instructor told us to make slide preparations of a stem leaf, a branch leaf, the stem stripped of leaves, and a section of the stem; and then after an hour or so of staring through microscopes, three different keys gave three different answers because the taxonomy isn’t settled. Usually by mid-afternoon, the three of us in the class have to get up and walk out of the lab to clear our heads.

The beauty of the bryophytes makes up for the frustrations of taxonomy and morphology. It’s another whole world….

A largish moss on the lab table.
Hylocomium splendens
A microphotograph showing cells in a tiny leaf.
A folded leaf of Ptilidium pulcherrimum, showing cilia

Barred Owl

We’ve been hearing Barred Owls at night near where we’re camping. Late this afternoon, I heard a juvenile owl out in the conservation land behind the campsite. I followed it as best I could, hoping to see a baby owl. Then I heard one of the adults calling not too far away, and suddenly I became aware of two eyes staring at me.

An owl! I managed to get this photo before the own flew away.

An owl sitting in a tree behind some leaves.

Beating the heat

In the 90s today, with a heat index of over 100 degrees F. Walking along the Whitney Spur Rail Trail, I noticed a Red Squirrel (Tamiasciurus hudsonicus) relaxing on a tree branch about 15 feet above the ground. It looked so relaxed, I wonder if the squirrel was enjoying the cooling breeze blowing down the trail. It looked totally relaxed, something that’s unusual for Red Squirrels.

Red Squirrel stretched out on a tree branch, with its paws hanging down.

Sarracenia purpurea

Recently I went to a bog here in southeastern Massachusetts, and discovered the pitcher plants (Sarracenia purpurea) were in full bloom. This is the first time I’ve managed to be in a bog when they were in full bloom — I usually mange to show up just after all the blossoms have dropped their petals.

Below is my photo of one of the flowers. Since this is an endangered plant, I’ve carefully stripped out any identifying information (location, date, and other EXIF data).

Large flower hanging from a stalk.
Flower of a pitcher plant

It came from a plant press

Back in early March, I wrote about how to make a cheap pocket plant press, showing a Common Snowdrop (Galanthus Nivalis) in the press. I finally got around to mounting the prseed plant, and here’s what the finished product looks like:

A pressed and dried flower mounted on cardstock.

I used polyvinyl acetate (PVA) glue (Elmer’s Glue) to mount the pressed-and-dried plant onto a piece of cardstock. PVA glue dries fairly clear, is reasonably non-acidic and flexible, will fill small gaps, and is cheap, making it a good choice for gluing dried plants to a base.

If you’re mounting a plant for an herbarium, you’d include the whole plant, roots and all. But I’m doing this for fun, so I didn’t include the roots. I mounted the plant with a bit of the stem extending off the cardstock. Then when the glue dried, I used a sharp knife to trim the stems at the edge of the card. Notice how I glued the petals down so that the inner parts of the flower are visible.

The end result is attractive, and even though it’s scientifically useless, I’m happy to have it for my own reference. I’m thinking of making a somewhat larger cheap pocket plant press — maybe 4 x 6 inches (10 x 15cm) — for slightly larger flowers.

As always, don’t collect plants unless you have permission to do so. These days, written permission is typically required for collecting on most federal lands (including national parks, Forest Service land, and often even BLM land), on many state lands, on nearly all wildlife sanctuaries, etc. — don’t collect unless you’re sure you’re allowed to do so. If it’s in your back yard or you know the landowner personally, you should be fine. PLUS, never collect rare or endangered plants, and never collect more than about 5% of a given species in a given location. The only exception would be invasive plants — e.g., here in Massachusetts, go ahead and collect all the Purple Loosestrife, Yellow Iris, Rosa Multiflora, etc., that you want.

Eclipse

In order to watch the solar eclipse this afternoon, I set up binoculars on a tripod next to the Parish House at First Parish of Cohasset. This is the same set-up I used to project the transit of Venus back in 2012. Here’s what it looked like:

Binoculars taped to a tripod with gaffer's tape, with a large shade collar attached.The binoculars are projecting an image of the sun on a white sheet on the ground.

I used an old pair of inexpensive binoculars, so the image quality wasn’t perfect. But the image was good enough that we could see at least one sunspot. The size of the projected image was about 4 inches across.

The eclipse reached about 92% of maximum here in Cohasset. Some high thin clouds passed over, but they weren’t thick enough to block the sun. As the eclipse progressed, it didn’t get dark, but the light was dim enough to make it feel like dusk. Some robins started singing their evening song. The air grew noticeably cooler.

I took photos showing most of the progress of the eclipse, and assembled them into an animated GIF. Two notes about this GIF: First, the amount of time each image of the GIF is displayed is proportional to the amount of time elapsed between photos. Second, the GIF shows the image as projected; but the projection was inverted from what we saw through the protective glasses. Also, notice the chromatic aberration when the eclipse is at the maximum, presumably from refraction.

Animation showing the progression of the eclipse using projected images.

Half a dozen people from First Parish came over to the Parish house to watch the eclipse. Everyone else had a pair of those protective glasses. It was fun to be able to view the eclipse both through the glasses and with the projection. Hosetly, we probably did more talking than looking at the eclipse. We kept inviting random passers-by to join us. A parent with a couple of preschool-aged kids came over, and it was interesting to see that they were too young to understand what a projection was, or really even to understand what they were seeing through the protective glasses.

See also my post on the 2017 solar eclipse.