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Science

3D Modeling Software for 3D Printing

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by Camden S.

One thing that everyone needs when making a 3D printed model is 3D modeling software. No matter if you are new to the hobby, or have some experience, a program for creating objects is a crucial tool. This article is about software specifically for 3D printing, yet can be used in a variety of applications, and this will be discussed in a bit more detail later on. But, what 3D modeling software should you use?

Tinkercad:

Tinkercad is one the easiest modeling software to learn due to its simple nature. It’s web-based, with a low learning curve, making it perfect for beginners. In Tinkercad, you use shapes to create complicated objects piece by piece by grouping them together, then cutting a hole out from the overlapping parts, like a cookie cutter. Tinkercad is primarily oriented towards younger users, but anyone can use it, especially when starting out.

Fusion:

Fusion can be seen as an older sibling to Tinkercad and is free for hobby use. It uses dimensions, which define how big each part of your object will end up, and how it’s positioned in relation to other parts. This allows for easy modification of the project later on, and to have a  history of past edits that you can get back to for editing. Fusion is used by hobbyists, as well as professionals in 3D printing, and the manufacturing of many products. This software  has a higher learning curve than Tinkercad; however, it’s worth the work for people who want a more powerful program.

Fusion

Blender:

Blender is open source, and free to use for everyone. It uses individual points in space called vertices, with lines connecting those vertices, called edges, which you can connect to create faces. Blender is the most versatile software described in this article, and can be used for anything from modeling to animation, and even making full movies. It is able to create objects that wouldn’t be possible in the other two. For example, realistic plants and animals, or basically any organic shapes can be designed with this software. But with that comes a caveat: Blender has a very high learning curve, so the ability to use it to its full potential may take a lot of time and effort. It’s a very powerful tool, but with great power comes great responsibility.

Blender
Blender

Here are a few examples as to how each of these fundamentally work. (These are not full tutorials, so every detail won’t be included, but it should give you a good idea of how the software works.) So, let’s say you want to make a cube with a square hole on the top:

In Tinkercad you would create two cubes one bigger than the other. Take the small cube and put it on the top of the big cube half of it inside. Then select the type of the small cube as “Hole”. Lastly, group both together, this will cut the part of the small cube into the big cube.

In Fusion, start by creating a sketch on the floor plane, then create a 2-point rectangle on the sketch putting in how big each side will be. Then, finish the sketch and extrude it up and write in how tall you want it to be. Then create a sketch of the top of the cube and extrude it down and tell it how deep you want to hole.

In Blender, begin with adding a cube. Next enter edit mode and select the top face and inset it. Then extrude down.

Each software is unique and offers different tools, so I recommend trying each one to see what best suits your preferences. Happy printing!

Stories

The Midgard Serpent – Percy Jackson Fanfiction ~ Ch. 13

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by Emery Pugh

Chapter 13

Godric

I thought I wouldn’t be able to sleep that night – but I was wrong. I passed out as soon as I laid down, not even changed into my pajamas.

For the first time in years, I had a solid night’s sleep. No demigod dreams or visions. I guess the Fates finally gave me a break.

I woke up naturally as the sun’s rays shone through the cabin window. Springing out of bed, I started packing a small bag for the quest – I had a small Celestial Bronze dagger, some matches, a book, a watch, and dozens of snack bars.

I took a glance back at my cabin as I walked outside, hoping it wouldn’t be the last time I see it.

The warm light of dawn filled the valley as I strolled towards Thalia’s pine tree with the Golden Fleece (which helps protect the camp through its powerful magic). We’re all supposed to meet here before our departure to Charleston, South Carolina, where we would meet the other part of the team from Camp Jupiter.

Sanderson and Andromeda arrived a few minutes later. The air was grim and nobody said a word.

A thought nagged me at the back of my mind. It was a flashback to the horrors of my last quest. I gritted my teeth and pushed the thought away.

Based on the look Sanderson gave me, he was thinking the same thing. We held our gaze for a few moments, but it felt like an eternity. In time-lapse, we both re-experienced the previous quest.

My eyes stung as I tore my eyes away. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. This quest won’t be like the last one. But even as I said it, I knew I was lying to myself. Was it really going to be different?

Hector was the last one to arrive, by thirty minutes. Nobody blamed him for that – he was a new camper, and he was already having a potential death sentence handed to him.

Beside him were two satyrs, chattering nervously. I caught snippets of their conversation – they were trying to help Hector perceive this new weird world of gods and monsters.

My vocal cords felt like they were glued together with adhesive. I forced them apart. “Are we all ready?”

Sanderson and Andromeda nodded. Hector gave me a shy glance. Garret and Hedge quieted down and stood to attention.

I nudged my chin in the direction of a white van with the design of Camp Half-Blood on it – strawberries. We’d sell the strawberries that grew in the fields in New York City to earn our funding. The vans were often repurposed, though, for quests.

We climbed inside. The driver was already waiting for us in the front seat. I took my place directly behind the driver with Sanderson and Andromeda to my right, and Hector and the two satyrs behind us.

“To Grand Central Terminal, New York City,” I instructed the driver. With a skid, we were off.

___________________________________________________________________________________

The atmosphere started out terse – nobody said a word. Gradually, though, it loosened up. Sanderson and I exchanged jokes while Andromeda laughed at them. Even Hector and the satyrs threw in a few good ones.

I grabbed a snack bar from my backpack and slowly munched on it, pondering the quest. I didn’t know anyone from the Roman side of the quest team. Would we all get along? And would there be conflict as to who would lead the quest? I was only the head of the Greek side – the Romans probably chose someone to represent them too.

I sighed. As a son of Zeus, I had high expectations held to me. Being the quest leader wasn’t anything special – it only loaded more burden onto my shoulders. If the quest failed, I’d be mostly to blame.

Just like last time, that little voice in my head whispered.

Shut up, I told it. It’s going to be different.

Thankfully, the voice said nothing more.

“Godric?” Sanderson tapped me on the shoulder. “Are you okay? You’re sending electric sparks everywhere.”

I blinked, startled out of my daze of thoughts. The remaining chunk of the protein bar dropped into my lap.

“Oh… I’m alright. Sorry about that,” I replied sheepishly. “I got distracted.”

Sanderson seemed to understand my thoughts. We rarely needed to exchange words – our minds were almost like one.

The van trundled to a halt. We had arrived at our destination.

___________________________________________________________________________________

Grand Central Terminal was one of the largest train stations in the world. It’s also one of the most packed.

We said our goodbyes and thanks to the driver, who proceeded to set up a strawberry stand with a sign reading, As the summer season ends, get the last of the fresh strawberries!

Nobody seemed to pay us any attention as we zig-zagged through the crowd. I clutched my ticket in one hand and a protein bar in the other.

The train whistled. We were just in time to board it.

Handing our tickets to the conductor, he let us pass through and we settled in the third to last car. The closer to the dining car, the better.

We took the same seating arrangement as in the van just as the train rumbled, and we started our half-day journey to Charleston, South Carolina.

I prayed that the train ride would be smooth. I received an answer from the seat in front of me. Grrrr.

Arts and Culture, Stories

America’s Shining Girls – Part 2.

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by Harper Smith

(Find part one here!)

Mollie’s death was a tragedy, but unfortunately, it did not gain media coverage. For all they knew, it was one girl, who suffered tragically and died horrifically, but with no one to blame. Her story could very well have gone unknown–if it was not for the girls at the factories. In fact, one in particular, Irene Rudolph, may have been the one to truly start it all. In 1922, she began regularly seeing a dentist for much of the same problems that Mollie suffered from. Although the dentists she saw had never crossed paths with the man who operated on Maggia before her death, Irene had been friends with her, and after the similar stories from a few other women who’d also worked at the dial factory, she began to be suspicious. Doctors began to suspect the chemicals from the plant may have had something to do with it, but they could find no proof, the radium companies made too much profit to even consider looking into the issue. Radium is perfectly safe, they would say, and that was that. Meanwhile, former and current employee deaths began to pile up. 

But the girls and their families wouldn’t stand for that. They tried to sue the company, and two professional medical investigators were even hired to inspect the facility. But their reports came back unhelpful–the employees’ blood was “practically normal,” from all they could tell, and Radium Dial remained fully in business. In fact, when another former employee, Hazel Kuser, began to experience a rapid decline in her health, the firm refused to pay any of her crushing medical bills, and her family was soon nearly broke. A brave group of the suffering women–Grace Fryer, Katherine Schuab, Edna Hussman, and Quinta and Albina MacDonald–did eventually press a lawsuit against the firm, but it was a very slow-moving process, and although the presence of radiation was being discovered in the corpses of the fallen girls, the company conducted many schemes to keep them from winning. Despite their efforts, the case fell short.

It seemed hopeless, and it nearly was. But in 1937, seven years after the deaths of the original women who fought for the case, five new women took a stand for their rights. They were very ill–the radium had been working its way into their body for a long time now, and it had been taking its toll. Several of them could not even travel to court, including Catherine Wolfe Donohue, who was so sick by the time of the proceedings that doctors were not sure she’d live to see the hearing. But their ailing health only made them more determined. Their bodies’ luminous glow, which had once signified wonder and prosperity, now spelled their doom: radium poisoning has no cure. But they could not let other women continue to suffer as they did. And so they fought. They found a lawyer, Leonard Grossman, who took the case for free, as they were very poor. Radium Dial was by now very sick of these meddling women indeed–but as the papers began to report on the case, calling them “The Living Dead” and taking their side, the company began to sweat. 

The girls testified on February 10, 1938. They were pushing for money, a settlement from the company to help pay the medical bills they would not have had to face if it was not for radium, but it was more than that. They wanted the truth. They wanted the company to admit what they’d done, to them and to so many others: that they’d lead an entire generation of women to their untimely deaths just for profit. 

It was Catherine who would be their savior. She was so weak that she needed the support of at least two other people to stand, and her voice was quiet and faltering as she told her story. But tell it she did, laying out the years spent working as a dial painter and the illness that followed, the company’s firm insistence that there was nothing wrong with her or the other women. There’s nothing wrong with you–these were the words spoken by the company president when Charlotte Purcell came to him missing her entire left arm. When the firm stole Peg Looney’s body and removed her radiation-drenched bones so that her death could not be tied to them. When the dial painters begged, year after year, for some closure in what was happening to them. Some explanation for why their teeth were rotting, their limbs were shrinking, their bodies were becoming riddled with cancerous growths. We are blameless, Radium Dial would say, and send their fake doctors out with the “proof.” 

Catherine talked for hours at her hearing, but she could not go forever. Halfway through, doctors–real doctors–were brought in to share the reports they had taken of her illness. It was to help prove the existence of radium poisoning, but when they shared the horrible truth–radium is permanent. Radium is terminal.–she collapsed to the ground with a scream so anguished it could be heard from the corridors outside. Catherine had so much to live for: she had her husband, her three children, she had her fellow dial painters, who had become her closest friends. She had been holding out for a cure, and hearing that there was none was too much for her and her ailing body to bear. She was taken back to her home, but her spouse Tom stayed to hear the rest of the report. Months to live. Incurable in her stage. Your wife is going to die. 

She was too ill to leave her bed after the collapse–in fact, her physicians said it would prove immediately fatal. But Catherine Donohue was a fighter. She would not rest until she and her friends, and the countless others before them, saw justice. “It is too late for me…” she said, “ but maybe it will help some of the others.” The hearing resumed the next day, at her bedside.  Lawyers, doctors, judges, and friends all clustered together around her, straining to hear her muffled words. She demonstrated the ‘lip, dip, point’ routine that had led her to ingest so much poison. She told stories of how the firm had told her to paint better, faster, to not get any grease on the dials–but never that radium was toxic. Her voice was tired, and she struggled to keep her eyes open, but she fought. Catherine Donohue fought for all the women of Radium Dial, for her friends, herself, and for the rights of factory workers everywhere.

On April 5th, 1938, the verdict was ruled. 

They had found Radium Dial guilty. 

For years, the Radium Girls have been the unsung heroines of our country. Thanks to their bravery, radium poisoning was recognized as an official, deadly disease. Thanks to their desire for justice, workers’ rights everywhere were improved as they had never been before. Thanks to their determination, their fighting spirits that carried on through horrific suffering and fatal disease, they brought down a cruel organization that would have rather covered up murder than pay an ounce of money to their victims. These women are the true champions of America, and it’s up to you and me to remember their victory for years to come. 

(Author’s note: nearly all the information in this report was gathered from Kate Moore’s nonfiction novel “The Radium Girls.” It is a wonderful, informative book that shines light on these brave women and their individual stories. There was a plethora of information that I was not able to include in this two-part publication, and I sincerely hope that you consider going out and reading it, it is not an exaggeration to say it’s one of my all-time favorite books. The stories of Catherine, Grace, Mollie, Quinta, Albina, Peg, Inez, Charlotte, Marie, and so many more are not tales to be missed.)

Stories

The Midgard Serpent – Percy Jackson Fanfiction ~ Ch. 11 & 12

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by Emery Pugh

Chapter 11

Percy

The serpent disappeared as soon as I set my eyes upon it. I blinked to make sure I wasn’t hallucinating. Time returned to normal speed.

Everyone rushed out of the meeting room and scrambled to assemble themselves into a fighting formation. I continued to stare at the spot where the serpent was. No one else appeared to see it. It must have been an illusion.

Across the Little Tiber, a massive siege tower was surrounded by a horde of hundreds of monsters. On top of the siege tower was another weapon – a snake made from Imperial gold, hissing and spitting out a green liquid, presumably venom. The tower could cause no end of trouble for us.

I had no time to dwell on the serpent issue.

I felt someone touch my shoulder. It was Annabeth.

“Are you going to fight?” she asked me.

I turned to face her and looked her in the eyes. “I thought this… was all over. I thought we were finally going to live a normal life together. As much as I want to avoid the chaos of demigod life, I can’t not fight for this camp. This is my home, just as much as Camp Half-Blood.”

She nodded and remained silent. I knew what her decision was without even asking her. That determined look said it all.

We both bolted for our rooms, which was where our weapons were. I uncovered my sword, in pen form, in a pocket of a spare set of jeans.

Outside, I found the legion fully assembled. I located the Fifth Cohort, the cohort I was once in, and positioned myself at the left flank.

The monsters across the Little Tiber gathered in clusters to cross the river into camp. The legion separated into its five cohorts, heading off to defend different weak points in Camp Jupiter’s defenses.

Dozens of massive, dark masses – hellhounds – jumped into the river and made a mad dash to our side. Water was my specialty – it was my job to stop them.

I concentrated and closed my eyes. Whirlpools swirled around the monsters, slowly sucking them down. They panicked and thrashed, but to no avail. A pit slowly formed in my gut – I willed a tidal wave to rise two stories into the air. The hellhounds were thrown into the air with the wave, yelping and waving their paws. (Their yelps, though, were like cannon blasts. Hellhounds are nothing like little puppies.) The wave/hellhound gang slammed into the siege tower, but to my disappointment, the tower was unshaken.

Ballistae cannons fired from the inner camp onto the siege tower and the monsters. I watched the cannonballs reach its apex and arc down, but they hit an invisible barrier and exploded midair.

Annabeth was studying the architecture of the siege tower – looking for weak points. “Percy, target the spot right above the doorway arch.”

I nodded with determination and focused all my energy on the water. These monsters were attacking the camp – my home. I would not let them do this. The pulling sensation in my gut increased, but I hardly noticed it. These monsters were after my friends and I – something I would not tolerate.

All my rage exploded from the river and crashed with tremendous force into the siege tower, right on the weak spot. I let out a primal scream, mostly from the pain in my gut. You try controlling a whole river, and you’ll be able to empathize with me.

The tower shook dangerously, swaying from side to side. The monsters tittered nervously and backed away.

And of course that’s when the venom-spitting snake started going nuts.

Did I mention that I have an intense hatred towards snakes? I’ve seen way too many – normal ones, snakes with 7 heads, massive serpents, and now a metal venom-spitting figurehead atop a tower.

Venom droplets sprayed everywhere. Campers crouched behind cover, but it did little – the venom melted even the Imperial gold shields and swords like butter in a hot pan. They had to get more distance to be safe.

“Get back!” I yelled. “Get behind cover, and get as far away as possible!”

“Everyone, follow me!” Frank held up his half-melted shield in front of his face.

An intense pain jolted up my right arm. I felt like it was being slowly sawed off at a point somewhere between my shoulder and elbow.

Only one word can describe than pain: a pure feeling of ow.

I looked in horror at my arm, which was now turning a green-ish purple. A venom droplet had struck me.

Within a few seconds, I probably cursed more than in the rest of my life. Hey, I couldn’t help it.

I uttered another primal scream, but this one was from pain. Then everything went black.

Chapter 12

Hector

I was, naturally, a little stunned. The son of Zeus (what was his name again?) just randomly selected me for the quest. I barely even knew what a quest was, and I didn’t know the guy.

The camp was silent. Chiron trotted over to me and put a hand on my shoulder.

“Congrats, Hector,” Chiron said, trying to have an encouraging tone. But it sounded like he was leading me to my grave. “Going on a quest is an honor.”

I gave a weak attempt at a timid smile. “Um, thanks.”

Walking back to my seat, I felt the eyes of the entire camp on me. I strained to not stare back at them and yell, What? Stop staring!

“Choose two more quest partners, Godric,” Chiron beckoned to him to continue.

Sanderson raised his hand. “I’ll be going.” He whispered something in Godric’s ear, who nodded.

Can I choose the other quest member? It echoed around the dining pavilion, but nobody else seemed to notice.

Suddenly, I realized why – at school, I’d even sometimes hear whispers across a noisy cafeteria. It was one of my powers as a demigod. Honestly, I didn’t know how extra good hearing could help much, but okay.

Sanderson’s gaze drifted over to a girl at the Iris table – who I presumed was his girlfriend. The girl smiled and stood up.

“I’ll go with Sanderson,” she said, putting an arm around him.

Chiron cleared his throat. “Alright, Andromeda. We have our quest team assembled. Get ready to depart next morning.”

___________________________________________________________________________________

Chiron called me to come over to the Big House that evening.

If you don’t know, the Big House is just a house that Chiron and some of the other camp leaders live in, and where stuff is stored.

I walked across the camp and climbed the stairs to the porch, where Chiron (in wheelchair form with his centaur lower body magically compacted) was sipping a lemonade. He gestured for me to take a seat.

“Hector… I need to tell you a few things about your quest.” Chiron drooped his head.

I held my breath, waiting.

“Quests…” Chiron took a deep breath. “Are very, very dangerous. I must stress the perils you will face. Hades chose to claim you at that moment because he wants you on the quest, and I won’t dispute that, but I feel guilty if I don’t give you a chance to back out.”

I swallowed. I barely even knew what was going on, or even what being a son of Hades meant – I’d never even met the guy. Garret and Hedge the mad whacker did their best to explain everything, but little made any sense.

A thousand and one questions ran through my mind. Would the camp make fun of me for chickening out? Would I die on this quest? Why are strawberries red?

Despite being new, the camp already felt like home. The Hades cabin wasn’t all that comfortable, and the last son of Hades who lived in there was off on a different dangerous quest. I made up my mind.

“I… I don’t know,” I admitted. “I barely know what’s going on. But I’m sure this camp is and was a home to many, and I’m willing to defend it.”

Chiron nodded gravely and made an attempt at a smile. “That’s the spirit of a hero. Good luck out there, Hector, and may the gods be with you.”

“Thanks,” I said weakly as I stood up to leave.

“Oh, and one more thing.” Chiron interrupted. “Usually at least one satyr accompanies the quest team… how would you like your old friend to go along?”

My heart leapt. “You mean… Garret?” Chiron nodded.

I grinned. Maybe this quest wouldn’t be so lonely after all.

Arts and Culture

Interview with Bake My Day Mimo

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by Aleena Haimor

Mirvat “Mimo” Hachem-Osseili, AKA Bake My Day Mimo, is an incredible Lebanese-American home baker with a huge follower count on platforms such as YouTube, TikTok, and Instagram. She is very talented and well known for decorating beautiful, elaborate cakes. Mimo makes cakes that span all different styles. I had the privilege and honor of being able to interview my favorite influencer and cake artist last week through email.

Mirvat Hachem-Osseili. Source: @BakeMyDayMimo on YouTube

When did you first get into baking?

So I first got into baking when I was little and I would always bake my sisters their birthday cakes. It wasn’t until I quit teaching that I actually started to make this a career of mine.

What is your favorite dessert? 

For my favorite dessert, I don’t really have one. I think if I were to choose something to eat, it would most likely be tiramisu.

Who is your biggest inspiration?

My biggest inspiration used to be Cake Boss but I no longer look up to him anymore because he’s turned his place more into a factory. So now I just look up to home bakers who have started from nothing and have grown.

Source: @BakeMyDayMimo on YouTube

When did you start your YouTube (current main) channel?

I actually started my YouTube channel about 14 years ago but I haven’t been really active on it until about four years ago. 

What do you like to do in your free time?

I used to love to paint in my free time but I have so little free time that I just find myself kind of numbing my brain out and watching some of my favorite shows over and over and over again. I also like to read when I can.

Why do you love baking?

I love to bake because I love the joy that it brings people. It’s also a way for me to use my artistic abilities and be able to profit off of that.

What is your favorite cake that you’ve made so far?

My favorite cake that I’ve made so far is the Venom cake, I’m so proud of that and I’m just honestly kind of disappointed that it didn’t go viral.

Source: @BakeMyDayMimo on YouTube

How are you always so good at coping with negativity?

I’m glad that you think I’m good with negativity but I really am not. In fact, I feel myself getting super anxious when I read negative comments. So the only way I find that it makes me feel better is to reply sarcastically. But most of the time, I usually just block them.

What cake decorating tips and tricks can you offer for beginners?

Any tips and tricks for beginners, honestly I would just start off with simple YouTube videos about how to bake a cake, how to fill and ice a cake and how to cover a cake.

Lastly, What is some advice you have for people who want to start a business or get into baking?

The best advice I have for people who want to start a cake business is to make sure that they have an organizational plan in mind because that’s the only way that they will prevent burnout. Also, take a class on how to properly price cakes because I know I’m on the lower end and I truly never learned how to price them perfectly. 

Mimo, thank you so, so very much for doing this interview with me. I know you’re very busy, and I’m very grateful that you made the time to answer some of my questions. I loved getting to talk to you, and I really hope that you enjoyed the interview as much as I did!

You can check out Bake My Day Mimo at:

https://www.youtube.com/@BakeMyDayMimo (Youtube)

https://www.tiktok.com/@bakemydaymimo (TikTok)

https://www.instagram.com/bakemydaymimo1/ (Instagram)

https://www.snapchat.com/add/bakemydaymimo (Snapchat)

Be sure to drop a follow for her!

Arts and Culture

Gold That Has Lasted – The Early Life and Poetry of Robert Frost

thelighthousetve

by Meru S.

In the land where grass grows gold

And gold itself does flourish;

In a city not yet shaken by Earth herself;

In the year of a thousand,

Eight centuries,

Seventy,

And four;

As the month of winds and rains

And of tender blossoms of fire,

Wandered away, unnoticed, with

Only five days left to live,

Was a life begotten.

A life that would piece together words—

Find refuge in words—

Words of joy and woe

And of mystical wonder . . .

To the eye of the reader.

And upon this life was the name of

Robert Lee Frost placed

In admiration, in imitation,

Of an esteemed soul,

A general of the South.

When had passed a pair of years,

Two months,

And one score and ten days,

Another, a sister, entered his life;

Together, they were alike and different.

When five years had grown him into a young boy,

The gentle Isabelle Frost

And the intoxicated William Frost

Sent him to kindergarten halfway across town,

With his trust in the driver of his horse-drawn bus

Who well-nigh failed to locate his passenger’s home,

Plunging the child into a pit of panic.

And he avoided school for many a year,

For his stomach was overcome with pain—

Perhaps fabricated . . .

Perhaps of true existence . . .

But successful, nonetheless.

And so, homeschooled he was,

In the art of numerals and reading,

In the weaving together of words.

And it was the latter that he was drawn to;

Errors in his copying of sentences

Drove him to a state of fury,

To rip the page from its bindings,

And to crush it to demolition.

Then tragedy struck,

Six years thereafter:

The death of his father;

Uprooting the family,

Sending them across the States

On a long, lonely journey aboard a train

To the east,

Where they resided with their kin,

Where his mother found employment

As a teacher of the middle grades.

And it was then and there that he attended school alongside others,

—Unaccompanied by a lack of complaint—

Yet again under the instruction of his mother, the schoolmistress . . .

It was to him all but engrossing;

His mother elected to ignore

The shavings of wood that amassed

Beneath his desk,

Fallen away from wooden figures.

He took no interest in reading,

He read no book until the age of fourteen—

Instead, uncovering a love of nature

That was bound to infuse his verses with its tranquility.

But a necessity to earn wages wrenched aside his attention,

Flinging it towards an undesired position at a shoe factory,

Until he quit from disrelish.

His pursual of further education lit a lamp,

Illuminated the works of the distinguished—

John Keats,

Edgar Allen Poe,

Inspired him to compose those of his own.

And so “La Noche Triste” manifested in his mind,

One night,

And like a river gliding down to form a lake,

It flowed from his mind

Through his pen

To meet his paper in physical appearance,

And he believed that it augured

The poet within him destined to be revealed—

The Monet of imagery,

Who would depict the bittersweet days

After Apple-Picking

With expression as free as the starlings’ flight;

Who would evoke a child to mount the branches of the

Birches,

To bow them with joy,

With exhilaration,

To ride skyward,

Away from the trammels of reality,

And to return once more,

To the earth,

To engagement,

To community and love;

A poem of two fragments combined.

And he took

A path less traveled

To tease his friend not through prose,

But through poetry,

Through stanzas seemingly sapient,

Through essence hidden in plain sight,

And it was not the poet’s wished significance

That was perceived then,

For, instead, it bewildered the recipient,

Who failed to look beyond its profound semblance,

Who primed the canvas for many a perusal to come.

And they have remained—

Sempiternal jewels,

Gold that has lasted,

Untarnished.

Arts and Culture

America’s Shining Girls: The Dark History of our Industry’s “Wonder Element”

thelighthousetve

by Harper Smith 

The year is 1898. Two scientists find themselves in the midst of making history–they have discovered a new element. Marie and Pierre Curie, in their study of radioactivity, found traces of something they had never seen before in a sample of uraninite ore. They named this element “radium,” and spent the next three years attempting to further prove its existence to the scientific community. It’s possible that you are aware of how this story ends. 36 years later, at age 66, Marie passes away due to aplastic anaemia, a disease of the blood cells. The cause? The chemist was known to have carried bottles of both polonium and radium, two extremely radioactive chemicals, in the pockets of her coat. The toxins caused her blood cells to be literally eaten away, bit by bit, until her body could no longer continue to function. The severity of the poison was so drastic that her remains have to be sealed in lead, along with nearly everything the scientist touched. Her notes are kept in a lead lined box and anyone who wishes to study them is required to wear protective suits–even her cookbooks are radioactive! After this, the element of radium was universally recognized as hazardous and kept locked away for only trained professionals to handle, and everyone lived happily ever after. 

At least, that’s what should have happened. 

Let us jump forward in time. It’s the early twentieth century, and everything is radium. There is radium in razor blades, toothpaste, cosmetics–even chocolate is being made with the toxic element! Radium is hailed as a miraculous cure-all due to its role in early forms of chemotherapy and spread wide in high-end stores across the country. And the business at the forefront of this craze is watches. “Liquid sunshine,” as the element was dubbed by some advertisers, had the ability to glow in the dark–bright and luminous and perfect for alarms and clock faces and most of all, watches. After all, who wouldn’t want to tell the time even amidst pitch-black darkness? Factories popped up everywhere, churning out a huge supply of the radium-coated time-tellers. Inside these factories were girls–the usual age being early twenties or late teens, with some as young as 13–and these girls had a very important job to do. They were known as the dial-painters and their role was simple: paint the clock faces with the radioactive paint. This alone may not have been deadly, if it weren’t for one factor. Lip, dip, paint. The girls, you see, were on a very strict schedule, and each watch had to be perfect. There was only one way they knew of to get their brushes to have that precise, fine tip, and that was by using their mouths to point the bristles. They would dip the brush into the radium-infused paint, then between their lips, then onto the dial, filling it in with the bright glow. The girls were told that this was healthy, that it was good for them, and each day they went home glowing like the very watches they painted. The radium powder coated their clothes, their skin, the tips of their tongues–America’s “shining girls,” they were called, floating through their towns like luminescent ghosts. It was a glamorous job, it paid well, it was so easy; what else could these women possibly need?

In October 1921, twenty-four year old Mollie Maggia, a dial painter of several years, made an appointment with a dentist named Joseph Knef. A few weeks prior, she had discovered a terrible ache in her mouth and had her tooth surgically removed. But the pain hadn’t left. Knef diagnosed her with pyorrhea, a common tissue disease, and operated on her to remove more teeth. But it didn’t help. The infection spread, ulcers grew in her gums, her teeth began to fall out all on their own, and on top of that she started experiencing seemingly unrelated aches in her leg and hip, so painful that she could barely walk. Knef attempted to operate on her jaw, only to find it literally disintegrated in his hands. He was mystified–Mollie was young, healthy, and on top of that she had worked with radium, the wonder element, for years. Why was this happening? 

A few weeks later, Mollie died. It was, as her sister Quinta put it, a “painful and terrible death,” caused when her mystery infection spread to her throat and caused her mouth to fill rapidly with blood, suffocating her. She left her friends, family members, and doctors all heartbroken and bewildered. The term “radium poisoning” would not be coined to describe her illness for many more years, and as far as they knew, there was no reason for any of this to have happened. Her death, painful and terrible as it was, had been completely and utterly unpredictable. 

Mollie Maggia was the first of the radium girls to succumb to this grisly fate. She would not, as the years went on, end up being the last. 

-To be continued-