Just So You Know
The Mausturm is a tower on a small island in the middle of the Rhine River near Koblenz. Legend has it that in 974, the Archbishop of Mainz, Hatto II, was using it as a toll booth on the Rhine. He allegedly lined the ramparts with crossbowmen and demanded tribute from passing boats at arrow-point. The famine of 974 led many peasants to implore Hatto for charity from his granaries. However, he responded by duping the hungry peasants, telling them to go into the barns and help themselves. The barns were actually empty and once inside, the peasants were locked in and Hatto's men set the barns on fire. Hatto supposedly laughed at their screams with the words, "Hear the mice squeak!" He then retired to his castle and it was, according to legend, invaded by mice - a sort of poetic and fantastical justice from beyond. He fled the castle and retreated to his tower in the middle of the river but the mice supposedly swam to the tower and ate him alive.
I have numerous doubts as to the truth of this story, of course. But the fact remains that the castle and tower became known as the Burg Maus and the Mausturm. My ancestors on my mother's side - apparently no relation to Hatto - are the Maus family.
Hatto II - Man of God, cruel landlord, rodent chow.
Why This Site Exists
I need a place to store my thoughts. My brain, it seems, is either near capacity or just so riddled with leaks that I no longer trust it to secure memories and information. So I have decided to erect a virtual vault where all this mental detritus is now stored. I think about a lot of things. Few of them are important. Yet, somehow, I have arrived at the conclusion that these thoughts need to be stored and placed on display for the world to see. Behold - the tangled, dust-covered clutter that is my mind. It isn't pretty.
At this age, I have spent a great deal of my life worrying about what people will think of me. I think I need to evolve past that and just be more self-revealing. You may get some surprises here. You may not enjoy what you see. Life is like that sometimes. Deal with it.
||Memories and pictures of my father, George Willard Gibson.
|A Prairie Point of View
||Things I think about these days.
||Reminiscences and thoughts about my home town.
||My take on a wide variety of movies. I likes what I likes.
||Why some authors live on my bookshelf.
||A detailed exploration of the wonder known as progressive rock. Possibly the single greatest waste of time and HTML ever made!
|Travelogue: Museum Crawl 2015
||A nerd's-eye view of culture and enlightenment in western Tejas and eastern New Mexico.