Reading a Book and Doing the Math

I don’t post regular reviews anymore; I’m taking the time to really enjoy what I’m reading. But that takes a little extra time for me. For instance, I am reading a book which says that 600 acres are equal to One square mile. I am always curious as to the veracity of any numbers thrown at me, and almost always check them out- longhand.

In spite of failing mathematics throughout my school years I have spent my entire life working at jobs which all dealt with numbers. From navigating a ship by star to estimating earthwork (try it sometime by emptying a pot of dirt and then seeing if you can get it all back in; or digging a hole and then throwing the dirt back in without having some left over) I have in love with the little digits and their perfection. They simply do not lie. Statistics do; but not mathematics. So, you see I just had to check the figure out and determine for myself how many acres are in a square mile.

To begin with I know that a mile is 5,280 LF long so you multiply that by itself and come to the sum of 27,878,400 square feet to a square mile.

   

Now we need to take the acreage. There are 43,560 sq ft in an acre. The assertion is that there are 600 of these acres in a square mile. So you multiply the 600 acres by the 43,560 square feet per acre and come to 26,136,000 square feet in 600 acres. We have a problem. The acrerage stated in the book is short.

Taking 43, 560 square feet and multiplying it by x for the unknown acreage and making it equal to the square footage we know to be a square mile (27,878,400 square feet) you get 43,560x = 27,878,400, as in square feet. Then you isolate the x.

The equation looks like this; (cross multiplication)

43,560X = 27,878,400 sq ft  = 640

43,560         43,560

And the proof is self-evident. You simply multiply 640 acres by 43,560 square feet to each one and come up with the same number of square feet then divide that back by 43,560 square feet for a total of 640 acres; 40 acres more than stated in the book. It's no big deal; just something I do. 

As usual with any post dealing with mathematics I dedicate this to my father, William Llewellyn Williams, who was so good at numbers that he couldn’t teach me to count;, believing that his failure was my shortcoming. 

Happy Birthday Mom!

This is my favorite picture of my mom, Ruth Marcus Williams, taken in the summer of 1934 when she was 5 years old. She is sitting in the back of 2020 East 29th Street in Brooklyn. Her parents had just divorced formally, after a 5 year separation. So she effectively grew up in a one parent household. She was always ahead of her time.

She was a talented woman, played piano and sang. Mostly Broadway show stuff. She was trained in voice and had planned on a career in the theater when she met my Dad, who was about to graduate Maritime High School and go to sea. Good thing they didn't, or else I wouldn't be writing this.

My Mom was sick, from the time I was 5 years old, until she died of the complications from pancreatic cancer 25 years later. I never really knew her before she was ill. I do have some warm recollections of her before she got sick, but they are clouded in the haze of early childhood. I remember being young enough to have a "sink" bath, that is, being washed in the kitchen sink rather than the tub, so I must have been about 3 or 4 years old. I can remember her calling out to my brother and I from the 4th floor window of our apartment on Bedford Avenue and Kings Highway, and even throwing down change wrapped in a paper towel for ice cream. I don't think anything can dislodge those memories from my mind.

I can also still recall her stripped dress and her dresser drawer full of kerchiefs. I know that I have printed this here before, but indulge me as I remember her with these lyrics, written several years ago while thinking about her at the piano; the beach; and just sitting on the sofa reading a book and being my Mom.

I can still see you there,

standing by the door.

Wearing your red kerchief and your coat.

And though I think I see your face

so clearly in my mind,

I know I'll never see you anymore.

I can still hear your voice

it's ringing in my head.

I can hear the words to every song.

Time's the perfect bandit,
it will steal your heart away.
It's robbed me just a little at a time.

And though I think I hear your voice,

So clearly in my mind,

I know I'll never hear it anymore.

Happy Birthday Mom. I still think of you as you were before all the illness. I know that's how you wanted it to be.