Bieganski the Blog
Saturday, August 1, 2026
Jakub Różalski – Warsaw Uprising
The Chronicle of Lerna by Michal Karski
The Trojan War has been over for many years and the glorious city of Troy is just a memory, but the anti-Trojan propagandists are still at work. There are people who fought with Agamemnon’s army who are intent on justifying Achaean aggression. The truth of what really happened at Troy is already being manipulated for political ends.
At his peaceful home overlooking the bay of Argos, the poet Linos of Lerna, who was with the Argives at Troy and served for a time as Agamemnon’s personal chronicler, decides to set the historical record straight.
Available at Amazon here
Thursday, July 30, 2026
Are Jews "Oppressors" ?
In response to my piece "I Stand with the Jews," a comment came in talking about "oppressors." The commenter did not specify what group he meant by "oppressors."
Thursday, July 23, 2026
I Stand with the Jews Part Two of Two Parts
"I Stand with the Jews"
What does that mean?
Second of two parts
A canopy of oaks and maples rose overhead. Green understory
surrounded me: pinxter azaleas and thorny Japanese barberry. Bluets – tiny
wildflowers – blossomed underfoot. Up ahead, Marc approached me with his
typically hale and hearty, "Hello, Danusha!"
I shoved my rosary in my pocket and removed my headphones. I had
been cheating. I should have been focusing, with the binoculars around my neck,
on the migrating spring warblers that make Garret Mountain famous among
birders. Instead I was listening to Gregorian chant and praying the rosary as I
hiked. "Hello, Marc," I said, as I migrated from internal
contemplation of the eternal to external society and the ingeniously plumaged
sprites zipping around us.
"Look at that color!" Marc exclaimed.
I pointed my binoculars in the direction Marc indicated. He had
spotted a purple finch.
"I can see," I said, "Why Roger Tory Peterson
called them 'a sparrow dipped in raspberry juice.'"
Marc is, by many estimates, the best birder in the state. Of
course we are all, in our own ways, the "best" birdwatcher in
compliance with our own needs and desires, but Marc racks up awesome numbers of
the species he sees annually.
Marc's surname harkens back to Chelm, a city in Poland once famous
among Jews as a site of folkloric fools. My favorite Chelm story: the local
wise men declared that if you drop a buttered slice of bread, it will always
fall on the buttered side. This conclusion reflects the pessimistic worldview
typical of both Jews and non-Jews in Eastern Europe. Of course, eventually,
someone dropped a buttered piece of bread and it fell buttered side up. The
wise men of Chelm debated this astounding event and determined that the slice
had been buttered on the wrong side. Chelm stories arose from a culture that
valued scholarship enough that it could spoof scholarly folly.
Mindful of Marc's identity as someone other than our state's best
birdwatcher, I wondered if I should say something.
I had told myself, if the opportunity arises, I will say
something.
Was this the moment, though, to say something?
I felt timid, but also determined. If we keep waiting for the
perfect moment, we never say anything.
"Marc," I ventured. "I want to say something about
something other than birds."
"Yes?" Marc said, turning his attention from the purple
finch to a streamlet that might be playing host to a Louisiana waterthrush.
"There's been a rise in antisemitism."
"You think?" Marc said, his voice rising, in an
atypical, for him, sarcastic comment.
"Yes, and I just want you to know that I'm not Jewish…"
said the woman who had been praying the rosary and listening to Gregorian
chant. "But I want to be an ally. I'm on your side."
I'm glad I said something. If the moment arises when Marc could use some support from someone like me, he knows I'm here.
Monday, July 13, 2026
I Stand with the Jews Part One of Two Parts
"I
Stand with the Jews"
What does that mean?
First of two parts
The other day, an
antisemitic comment came through my social media feed. I didn't want to debate
the poster. People who say abysmally stupid things do not deserve the respect
implied by debate, nor do they deserve the attention that debate generates. But
I did not want his comment to go unanswered. All I said was, "I stand with
the Jews."
"What does that
mean?" the antisemite challenged.
This essay offers my response to his question.
Friday, June 19, 2026
Pressure Movie Review. Yes we do need another D-Day Movie
Pressure
2026
Yes,
we do need another D-Day movie
I
walk a lot. I check NOAA's forecast five times before heading out. If there's a
ten percent chance of rain, I have a Gore-Tex slicker in my daypack. I'm always
over-prepared for weather. One day I was walking down Ratzer Road, a road I've
walked hundreds of times. I passed wide lawns and suburban McMansions, some of
them costing a million dollars. I felt carefree. That did not last.
Boom.
In the time it took me to type the word "boom," everything changed.
The sky turned black. Forty-foot evergreens swayed so drunkenly I feared they'd
lash me like the tail of a lunging tiger. Pelting hail obscured my vision. With
every step I pushed against a locked door – the wind was that determined to
prevent me from moving. I recognized that this is the kind of weather that
kills. I frantically sought a nook where I could take shelter in this, not my
neighborhood, and, again, that fast, it was all over. The sky was suddenly
dove-gray. The hail relaxed to a light drizzle. The Apocalypse was canceled.
My
best guess is that I was stuck in a dangerous phenomenon called a
"microburst." Microbursts damage structures, cause car accidents and
plane crashes, and they do kill. Ultimately, though, what it was, was weather.
In
Indiana, after a tornado, I heard of a grandfather trying to hold back his
grandson, to no avail. The tornado pulled the tyke out the window. In 2011, in
Paterson, NJ, I was evacuated during Hurricane Irene. The Passaic River was
coming up through the floorboards. Within hours the entire neighborhood, for a
mile around, was under water. In 2012, after Hurricane Sandy, for most of two
weeks, we had no electricity and substandard tap water. In 2021, thirty New
Jerseyans died during Hurricane Ida. One victim drowned on the very non-aquatic
Lackawanna Avenue, near a Best Buy and a Barnes and Noble. Two people tried to
rescue her, but these Good Samaritans had to themselves be rescued by fire
department crews. Her body was never found.
Weather.
We
humans have dominated much of nature. We have extended average lifespans,
conquered smallpox, and manipulated the landscape to our whim. But we are still
mere playthings in the hands of weather. A new film, Pressure, examines
the impact of weather on a history-making event: D-Day.
Perhaps
no human accomplishment supersedes D-Day as an expression of humanity's power.
D-Day was the largest seaborne invasion in history. On June 6, 1944, almost
160,000 Allied troops landed on Normandy's beaches. These included troops
from the United Kingdom, Canada, and twelve other Allied nations. Over 7,000
naval vessels and 12,000 aircraft participated. An estimated 100,000 French
resistance fighters coordinated, via coded messages, with overseas planners and
carried out crucial and meticulous preparatory operations behind enemy lines.
For example, the French derailed Nazi supply trains inside tunnels. Repairing a
train derailment inside a tunnel is much harder than doing so in an open field.
By the end of June, Allies had delivered 570,000 tons of supplies. By the end
of August, two million Allied troops were in France.
In spite of this display of human might, D-Day's planners were still subject to weather. The new film, Pressure, makes this vulnerability to weather abundantly clear. If the Allies had attempted D-Day on the wrong day, with the wrong weather, D-Day might have failed, and the attempt to defeat Nazi Germany would have gone very differently.






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