Olivia+C.

=A Report on.....= =COOPERS!=

The trade of coopers goes back centuries. (The word cooper comes from the Middle English word Cooper and Cowper, meaning tub or container.) If coopers were still a trade today we’d call them barrel makers. In truth, a cooper is a woodcarver who makes and repairs barrels. But coopers didn’t just make barrels. They also made casks, firkins, kilderkins, hogsheads, riffle butts, rundlettes, tierces, and puncheons. Pipes, pails, buckets, churns, tubs, dippers, kegs, and tankards are other things coopers made. To make these things, a cooper used pine, cedar, and oak. Different containers had different jobs, sometimes because of their size, their shape, and whether it was waterproof or not. For instance, casks could hold flour, gunpowder, and other dried goods. Casks are waterproof, so they could store liquids. Coopers had special jobs and specialties, too. Tight coopers made barrels. Slack coopers made containers (like casks) that held dried goods (flour and gunpowder.) White coopers made things like pails, churns, and dippers.

To do their jobs, coopers used many tools, such as broadaxes, planes, drawknives, hoops, and irons. Other tools were adzes, axes, iron wedges, bucksaws, chisels, and saws. But coopers didn’t use measuring tools-they used their body to measure. Axes and adzes (called impact tools) had long handles to give them velocity. Iron wedges were known as “slitting tools.” Drawknives could do different jobs depending on their shape and size.

To make a simple barrel, a cooper had a series of steps to follow. Each had to be done precisely and perfectly, or the whole barrel would be ruined. First, you must cut a tree. Next, a cooper had to take out the sap in the tree. After that, staves (long, thin, pieces of wood) were cut from the tree that the sap was taken out of. Staves were now put into boiling water, making them bend more easily. Then the staves were fit into rings (on the top, middle, and bottom.) The staves were hammered in place. After this, the cooper would make a cover for the barrel, a round lid. Lastly, the cooper made small holes in the hole and side, (so a person could look in the hole, and see what was inside the barrel) and covers for each one.

A cooper worked at a cooperage. A cooperage, usually in a town, (a very common store,) was especially in the south, because southern plantations needed the containers to store their products. A cooperage served as a workstation/home for a cooper. But to a customer, a cooperage served as a much needed and much used store. Coopers also could be found on military and merchant ships, to store their goods.

The craft of being a cooper was usually passed down in a family line for generations. (I think this is a good an idea, because then a child can practice woodcarving so that he is great at woodcarving when he grows up.) But to be a cooper, you needed strength to lift the tools (like handling tools) that which were very heavy. You also needed intelligence, because you needed to measure with your body. The last skill you needed to posess was the skill of woodcarving. You needed to be educated in the skill so that you didn’t make mistakes as often while making the barrels.

Being a cooper was a very important job to the community, because the skill of coopers was used by practically everyone. For example, barrels can be used aboard ship. Coopers made waterproof barrels for washing, and even yokes for oxen-a big help for farmers. Buckets made by coopers could hold any from water in a well, to dried goods on a ship, to even paint. This craft of barrels was used by all classes (but the higher classes got fancier barrels.) Barrels and other containers could be used to store food in the winter, so without barrels or a cooper, you would have to hollow out logs to store your food. All of the coopers’ hard work had a positive effect on the community.

There are very few coopers today, because barrels and other containers coopers made are not used as often as they used to be. Because today our technology in the United States has grown so much, plastic has replaced wood. Today “plastic cooper” companies such as Tupperware, Rubber Maid, and Ziploc replace the coopers that were in colonial times. = =

= = =Quest for the North Pole=

It is the year 2740. Especially along the East Coast, many children of all ages receive the name “Santa Claus” as a myth or legend. Some scientists, trying to preserve their imagination and creativity, constantly write books and make speeches to prove it. But over the years, it has never worked. The number of children who believe in Santa have decreased rapidly through the years. The scientist’s work was all in vain….

“SLAM!” Professor Arrucuk closed the four-inch thick book in Angler Library. The professor sighed. He had read every book in Angler Library, which only contained the oldest, thickest, and most boring books in the state. The Santa Claus situation was SO hopeless.

Just then his niece, Bambi, burst through the door. “Uncle Zani, I mean, Professor Arrucuk, you’ve just gotta see this,” gasped the excited girl. She handed him a child’s book. (Professor Arrucuk took Bambi in after her parents died in car crash, and she’s helped her uncle on the Santa problem for two months now.)

“I was reading a book on Santa Claus for some kids at a Children’s Library, and well, just LOOK!”

Professor Zani Arrucuk lightly skimmed the book his niece gave him. Every few words were in red! The professor took out his notebook and quickly jotted down the red words.

“In Gao [an African city] there is a cave. It will take you to the North Pole….” murmured the professor.

“Now lets stop being a professor and start being explorers!” shouted Bambi heading toward the door. “COME ON!”

The next week Bambi and Professor Explorer Arrucuk boarded the M. Leader, manned by Captain Amda. They set sail, and waved good-bye to their housekeeper, Madi, who had come to see them off. The trip itself to Africa was supposed to take two weeks

Upon their arrival in Mauritania, the explorers took a tour bus to Mali, home of Gao. “Excuse me, kind sir,” Arrucuk asked a dragon-tattooed native, “would you point out a place where caves are popular?”

“None ‘a your business.” He answered. Then he pointed toward a lake. “Only cave in the country, called Northward.

Not long after that Bambi and Professor Arrucuk entered the dank, dark cave. Unfortunately, after trekking about a mile their flashlight went out. The professor was frantic.

“We’re going to die, we’re going to die!” he shouted while running around in circles.

Bambi ignored him and groped around in the humid darkness. She fell in surprise as she stepped in an unexpected puddle. “PURCLUNK!” Wait! What was that? The passage ahead was lit by lanterns!

“Santa’s helpers…” Bambi whispered. Then to her panicking uncle; “Hey Uncle Zani, look at this, lanterns!”

The professor/explorer slowed to a stop and remarked; “Why were you panicking?” The tunnel was exactly 928 miles long, and it led them directly under the North Pole! The professor and Bambi pushed open a manhole cover to see snow on the ground. Amazingly, the snow was lukewarm.

“So this is the North Pole…” whispered the professor in wonder

“Ho, Ho, Ho! You’re very right about that!” said a voice from behind them

“Santa!”

“Actually no. I’m Santa’s twin brother, Jerry Claus. Santa was sick and couldn’t deliver presents tonight. Would you like a ride home in my sleigh?”

“Yes, oh yes!” cried the delighted Bambi Arrucuk

But the professor objected. “First, we need evidence to prove the North Pole is real, or no one will believe.”

“Of course, of course. Buddy the Reindeer never adjusted to life in the North Pole, so he’s arranged to go with you.”

And so Bambi, Professor Arrucuk, and the “evidence” all climbed in the back of Santa’s sleigh next to the bag of toys.

It was truly a glorious night.

= = =Googlebrain, Learnymap, and the Witch of Alinova=

"King Cole's thumb, a slug tear, bubble gum, and human underwear." chanted the mad witch of Alinova. "My creation lives!"

Out of a bubbling caldron, a human-like thing emerged. It was covered in a pink goop that never appears on the earth.

"Googlebrain, my creation, what is your purpose?" asked the witch.

"I don't know," answered Googlebrain, "What is my purpose?"

"You, you mean, you don't know?" stammered the old witch. "Oh, of course you don't know. I forgot to put in sugar, spice, and everything nice!"

"Oh, no!" cried Googlebrain. "Can't you fix it?"

"Yes, and no." replied the witch of Alinova. "I mean, I can, I can invent a Learnymap, a scroll which has your purpose on it. But I'm a witch, and I don't like giving things away freely, even if you are my creation. You will have to chase it around the world, and only when you touch it will it open and reveal your purpose."

Then, in a flash, she disappeared.

Five years later, Googlebrain sat down in a meadow that was somewhere in Sweden. In all of the five years, Googlebrain had only seen Learnymap twice, once in India, and once in China. He began to pick flowers. All of a sudden, something poked him in the back. Googlebrain ignored it. It poked him again, harder. He turned around. There was Learnymap! Googlebrain lunged for it… and brushed it with his fingertip.

There was a knock on the door.

“Come in.” said the witch of Alinova, expecting Bionti, her latest robot invention. When Googlebrain appeared, she was flappergasted. “You? Here?” she stammered.

“I have found my true purpose,” he announced, “Learnymap said that my purpose is to… smell flowers.”

“Smell flowers?” exploded the witch.

“That is what Learnymap said.”

“Oh dear. I forgot, Learnymap doesn’t know your purpose, he learns it. Learnymap must have been watching you closely, even though you didn’t sense it. Anyway, I have no use for you, smelling flowers… Do what you want with yourself.”

This actually was not an insult, the witch was a little mad and she could sure drive you crazy. If you ever see an oddly shaped, bulky man with pinkish skin, ask him how the witch of Alinova is doing...

=The Growin’ Machine=

Thomp! When you hear this sound, it is your cue to scadoodle out of the way. Ella the Elephant is coming. Ella is a humongous elephant who hasn’t stopped growing since birth. She has huge, floppy ears that can hear from a mile away, they say. You can tell when she is upset, because her mammoth ears drag on the ground, kicking up a cloud of dust. (Her ears droop most of the time.) At first the animals tried to befriend her, but the troubles she caused, one after another, added up and soon she had no friends, aside from Grandma Elephant, who pitied her. This was the life of Ella the Elephant.

“I’ll be on my way now,” announced Larry the Lemur, who was visiting his friend, Gary the Groundhog for tea.

“Wait! I have to check for the vibrations of Ella!” Cried Gary, his ear against the wall of his tunnel. Gary’s tunnel was dark, and you could get lost easily in them. “Wait, wait, I’m getting something,” said Gary, his eyes closed and focused. “No wait, that’s a cricket…” Okay, the coast is clear; do you know how to get out? Larry shook his head. “That’s fine its… left, right, straight, right, left, right. See ya later, Sammy, er, Larry, tah, tah.” He scampered off. Larry gulped; this would be harder than he thought.

“Okay, see, um, I think it goes right, straight, left, left… After about 10 minutes of searching and looking he saw a light. “Finally!” He yawned. But Larry forgot to check for vibrations before he went out, and Swoosh! Larry was caught in Ella’s drooping ear, like a fish wriggling in a net. Ella seemed not to notice, and kept dragging her feet in the dirt. Finally, Larry caught his breath and yelled “Ella stop it! Put me down!” Ella realized he was there and set him down gently. “Why you…”, he stammered, then marched off before Ella could utter an apology. = = Ella’s floppy ears drooped even lower now, and she continued walking to Grandma Emma Elephant’s house, because Grandma was her only friend. On reaching her house, Ella looked through the window to show Grandma Elephant that she was here. Grandma Elephant’s house was bright and cheery, and Grandma was sitting on her rocker, knitting.

“Come on in dear,” she called out.

Ella couldn’t help but smile, and her ears lifted from the ground. Eagerly, she opened the door with her trunk, and walked inside. Or, she tried to. Ella had grown so big she couldn’t fit through the front door! Ella tried to squeeze in, but the door just groaned and she slipped on rug back outside. The rug, Grandma’s special rug, tore with a “Rip!” Grandma sighed heavily and said: “That’s okay dearie, now if you don’t mind, its time for my nap.”

Ella’s eyes were filling with tears. She gazed at the torn rug and whispered: “Sorry Grammy.”

Her ears drooped even lower than it had before, and she started trudging away. She didn’t know were she was she was going, and she didn’t care. She wasn’t even conscious of the searchers around her, and she didn’t care what they were searching for. She continued walking until she heard a cry for help. She straightened up. It was baby Linda Leopard! She was about a mile away, but this was Ella’s big chance! She could prove she was not just trouble by rescuing Linda! Ella had long legs, and she could use them if she wanted to! In about five minutes Ella was standing at the edge of the ditch Linda was in, due to her sharp, keen hearing. Linda wasn’t old enough to understand all the “trouble” Ella caused, and when she saw a familiar face, she extended her arms, cooing. Ella carefully wrapped her trunk around giggling Linda, and slowly carried her out of the ditch, trying hard to conceal her excitement. She set Linda down on her back and patted her.

On coming to the “downtown” of the jungle, Kari Kangaroo said accusingly,

“So you’re the one who took Linda!”

“No I… You don’t understand… It’s not what you think…” stammered Ella.

The villagers surrounded Ella with disappointed, furious faces. Mama Leopard was red with anger. Then a voice cut the silence, which rescued Ella from her plight…

“Me wuv you.” proclaimed, Linda hugging Ella.

The villagers stopped, obviously surprised. Ella regained her voice.

“I found Linda in a ditch.” She explained.

Kari Kangaroo stepped up. “I’m sorry I jumped to conclusions, Ella.” She said. “I was just cranky after the long search.”

“You deserve an award!” Shouted someone in the enmasse of animals. So Ella won the first annual Best Elephant Award and was never considered a “nuisance” again.

= = =Runaway Baseball!=

Whiz! I could hear the air whine as my cousin, Jeff, threw his baseball to me. Joe Miller, (a famous baseball player), had autographed it at the game last night with red ink. I hoped it would be a normal Sunday, but then, I had to consider what a “normal” Sunday was.

The baseball was almost perfect, the white and red were practically clean, and amazingly, the red ink was still a little wet. This throw had been a bit too high, and it flew over my head. Shing! “Height problem.” I muttered. It was then it all started. Bounding around the fence, I stopped dead in my tracks. “Jeff, you’ve gotta see this.” I whispered. He was beside me in a second, dumbfounded, as I was.

The baseball began to roll on a slight slope to what we call, ”the busy bee house with ants” because this ant colony was always doing something. Their makeshift home was shaped like a volcano, a cone with a hole at the top. Slowly, it rolled gaining speed, going faster and faster.

Jeff was about to grab this bolting monster, when suddenly, it bounced toward a lone ant that squealed, yes squealed, dropped his grain and began running for his life. I heard a noise that I think meant “Grandpa!” Unfortunately, he did not consider just leaping out of the way. We heard a peculiar noise that I think means “I getting too elderly for this. Of course “old” is too”… I didn’t hear the rest. As if he had bigger things to worry about than us thinking he was “old.” Boing! Anyway, Jeff thought that his baseball tearing after a poor ant leaving a trail of red ink was funny, and he fell on the ground, chortling. I ignored him.

Nearing his colony, the black, half-inch-high ant climbed a blade of grass. “Whew,” he gasped. It sounded just like a fan. I too, relaxed for a moment, and then I realized one very important thing that was in danger… the colony!

Jeff’s baseball now sprinted toward the dirt mountain. When it hit, it sounded like a tower of cards falling, “Slat”! Sand, dirt, and small pebbles flew everywhere, hitting a young ant unconscious. Swish! Tunnels collapsed with a “Bam!” and eggs were upsetted with “Booms!” I’m positive I saw an ant kick the ground in frustration.

By now an angry, little, coal-black ant stood bravely next to the path of the oncoming baseball. You could see tiny beads of sweat fall off his (or her) glinting body. As the ball bumped along this acute little thing, it reached out it’s head and…. Snap! It bit the seam of Jeff’s baseball.

Whiz! Now the baseball tore around, dragging the ant in its seam. Jeff’s roar finally brought me to my senses, and I reached out my hand and stopped the skidding ball. The ant freed his teeth, while some ants carried the unconscious ant between them just like people would carry a sick person on a stretcher. You could hear the happy ants cheer Hip Hip, Hooray! Hip Hip, Hooray! (I really liked the ant colony now.)

I handed Jeff his ball and I realized that this was a “normal” Sunday indeed.