Over the years, the advancements made in crime scene studies have helped capture countless criminals and brought justice to an even greater number of victims and their families. Frances Glessner Lee, a curator of dollhouse-sized crime scene dioramas, is perhaps one of the least likely candidates to serve this role. At first glance, that is.
Her face looks familiar to you. You can decipher her message. You may have even heard her name. But how many of you can honestly say you know who Rosie the Riveter was—or how she came to be? The answer may not be as simple as you think.
Amid the current pandemic, the debate continues about the efficacy of personal protective equipment, especially face masks. According to some, if they are not of the N95 grade quality, they may not be effective at protecting the wearer’s immune system from absorbing foreign airborne pathogens. Pandemics are not a new phenomenon, and how they are handled now is a sharp contrast to the yesteryear methods. However, one similarity involves the protective gear worn by today’s health care workers—our new plague doctors.
Around the beginning of the last century—in 1906, to be exact—the 4’11” Ota Benga was featured in an infamous human exhibit at the Bronx Zoo’s Monkey House. Ota Benga, a Mbuti (Congolese pygmy) man from what was then known as the Congo Free State, stayed at the zoo for just a few months until the public outcry over his treatment at the zoo resulted in another home for him. However, Benga’s short life was marked with tragedy.
Just a stone’s throw away from Florence’s busy Santa Maria Novella train station stands a 600-year-old pharmacy that started as an infirmary. This establishment is renowned for creating sweet-smelling elixirs and skincare products that draw customers from around the world. Beyond selling modern-day perfumes and cosmetics, Officina Profumo – Farmaceutica di Santa Maria Novella is a preserve of ancient monastic history and tradition. Read along to find out more about this unique, centuries-old pharmacy that may be the oldest in the world today.
By 1973 billy barr was the only permanent resident of Gothic. A year into his stay in Gothic, barr started to document the weather, mainly as a way to pass the time. For more than 40 winters, he has kept meticulous notes on the behavior of the snow in the area. Twice a day, barr collects information on snowfalls, temperatures, and the animals which come in and out of his area of the Rockies.
By now, you have seen reports on the news of once-thriving cityscapes and bustling urban areas reduced to stagnant wastelands as COVID-19 coronavirus infections spread. New York’s Time Square and Piccadilly Circus in London, two neighborhoods typically choked with throngs of people all day and every day, currently stand vacant. These images are not too dissimilar to the desolate views of Kolmanskop, a ghost town in southern Africa’s Namib Desert.
Born in 1875 on the rugged Caribbean island of Martinique, Ludger Sylbaris led a roguish, if uneventful, life of crime and debauchery. Petty thievery, drunken stupors, fisticuffs with local merchants—Ludger earned a well-deserved reputation as being the island’s bad egg. So how did this nefarious character earn his claim to fame?
During this uncertain time, stories of human survival—especially in times of sheer hopelessness—can provide an uplifting swell throughout long periods of tedium and fear. This one, in particular, redefines the term: perseverance.
The Spanish Flu wreaked havoc on an unsuspecting audience between the years of 1918 and 1919. While flu viruses are common, this particular strain proved deadly—and was an eerie foreshadowing of things to come.