dual personalities

Month: February, 2013

Odds and Ends

by chuckofish

It’s finally Friday. We’ve had Mardi Gras, Shrove Tuesday, Ash Wednesday, the Westminster Dog Show, the SOTU, and Valentine’s Day. Good grief, Charlie Brown.

good grief

Seriously, that is too much for one week.

Not that I actually participated in most of it. Drunken mob (Mardi Gras)–certainly not my thing. Yes, our flyover town boasts the 2nd largest blow-out in the U.S. But no.

373876_10151199184301442_2034429883_n

I did watch some of the Dog Show, which I used to enjoy. But it is a bit over the top these days with its freaky display of weird breeds–I mean what is an Affenpinscher anyway? (This Affenpinscher reminds me of Michael J. Fox in Teen Wolf.)

affenpinscher AP

Not to mention traditional breeds that look freaky because of their blow-dried locks. I mean how embarrassed was this poor sheepdog?

DN31271401_crop_exact

Remember when they looked like this?

OldEnglishSheepdog9HalfYearsFullCoat1

To top things off, today is the 249th birthday of my flyover hometown. Founded in 1764 by Pierre Laclède and Auguste Chouteau, it became a major port on the Mississippi River after the Louisiana Purchase. According to Wikipedia, “its population expanded after the American Civil War, and it became the fourth-largest city in the United States in the late 19th century. It seceded from St. Louis County in March 1877, allowing it to become an independent city and limiting its political boundaries. In 1904, it hosted the Louisiana Purchase Exposition and the 1904 Summer Olympics. The city’s population peaked in 1950, then began a long decline that continues in the 21st century.” I always say, we peaked in 1904. Sigh.

Here is an ironic photo of "The Captain's Return" statue on the flooded riverfront.

Here is an ironic photo of “The Captain’s Return” on the flooded riverfront.

Well, we still have these guys:

cards jpg

Anyway, I think we’re all due for some quiet time this weekend, don’t you? Here’s a Quaker thought from here.

silence

By the way…I did not get long-stemmed roses from my husband for Valentine’s Day. Merci beaucoup.

Godiva chocolates, a book and Pilot pens (blue)

Godiva chocolates, a book and Pilot pens (blue)

It’s about time

by chuckofish

cashstamp

Johnny Cash gets his own stamp! Coming to a post office near you in 2013.

(As you know, I have been a big fan of Johnny since I was a small child with absurdly good instincts. I blogged about him here last year.)

Here he is singing one of my personal favorites, “Ring of Fire”:

Didn’t that make your Thursday a whole lot better?

Well, here’s something else to perk up your day. My friend Gary Hunt’s band Son Volt has a CD coming out soon. Here’s the teaser:

(Gary’s playing the fiddle and is visible in the first 2 seconds.) Word is that the band is scheduled to perform on David Letterman! We might have to actually tune in.

Praising my savior all the day long

by chuckofish

Frances Jane Crosby was the most prolific writer of hymn texts and gospel songs in the American evangelical tradition of the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries. She wrote more than eight thousand sacred texts in addition to other poetry.

crosby

Born in Putnam County, New York, on March 24, 1820, she lost her sight as an infant as a result of complications from a childhood illness. At the age of fifteen, she entered the New York Institute for the Blind where she would later teach for a number of years. In 1858, she married Alexander van Alstyne, a musician in New York who was also blind. Crosby was a lifelong Methodist.

Fanny Crosby is honored with a feast day on the liturgical calendar of the Episcopal Church in the United States of America on February 11, even though none of her hymns are included in either the 1940 or 1982 Hymnal. Go figure.

Here is an excellent rendition of one of her most famous hymns, Blessed Assurance, performed by Third Day. Listen to the whole thing and start your Lent on a positive note.

“I am not an angel,’ I asserted; ‘and I will not be one till I die: I will be myself.'”*

by chuckofish

My mother was a middle child. She had an older and a younger sister. The younger sister was one of those “surprises” that comes along seven years after the second child and that everyone immediately loves. Born in 1933, Donna was the next best thing to Shirley Temple–adorable.

1935

1935

When my mother was a sophomore in college and her little sister was 12, she saved her money and had Donna’s portrait taken because she thought she was so beautiful. She gave it to her mother as a surprise for Christmas. Wow. (I can’t help feeling a bit sorry for Sister #1 who probably gave her mother a nice set of hankies or something and no doubt felt a little like Cal in East of Eden when his brother upstages him.) My mother, of course, only wanted to preserve the beauty of her sister for their mother.

This is not "the" picture--I don't have a copy--but here she is graduating from high school.

This is not “the” picture–I don’t have a copy–but here she is graduating from high school.

Daughter #3 was their mother’s favorite and that never bothered my mother. It seemed perfectly natural and understandable. Her good looks were more than matched by her sweet, yet spunky, personality.

Through the years, because my Aunt Donna lived on the east coast and we lived far away in our flyover state, we didn’t see each other very much. When we did, though, she was always glad to see me and made me feel loved and appreciated. When I had long hair, she would ask to brush it and would do so as if it was a privilege. I can’t say that I have ever known anyone else like her in my life. She is like someone out of the Bible. Ruth or Priscilla.

Since my mother died almost 25 years ago, Donna has always been there when our own mother would be particularly missed. She went all the way to England for my sister’s wedding and, as usual, rolled up her sleeves and asked what she could do to help.

Donna89

I remember she spent hours with 4 1/2-year old daughter #1 making some sort of floral arrangements and sat with the poor sick 2-year old boy on her lap on the long plane ride home. She was here last summer for the boy’s wedding.

Today my Aunt Donna turns 80. Bless her heart. This calls for champagne!

* The quote is from Jane Eyre, in case you’ve forgotten!

Send me no flowers

by chuckofish

As Valentine’s Day fast approaches, I would just like to say that I hope I do not get a dozen long-stemmed red roses. Nothing says “thoughtless, auto-pilot gift” like roses. Do you know what I mean? They are expensive and let’s just admit it, not so great-looking.

roses

I don’t mean to sound ungrateful, and my intention is not to hurt anyone’s feelings. I have friends who will say, “Roses are better than nothing!” But I don’t think so.

Don’t get me wrong. I would like something. Tulips from the grocery store. Daisies. A book. A plant. Booze. Red wine, just not red roses.

Okay, yellow roses would be okay. White even. Just not those big honking red ones.

I didn’t mean to rant, but it is just a pet peeve of mine.

Since it is Monday, I will leave you with this adorable picture of the kiddos all dressed up for Valentine’s Day in the not-too-distant past.

valentine kids

I miss those days of the handmade Valentines and the school essays. “I love my Mom because she makes my lunch…”–never very creative, but earnest anyway. I suppose the red roses are the earnest gift of a spouse, and we should not sneeze at that.

18th century interlude

by chuckofish

While I’ve been laid up with the flu and the snow has been falling, falling, falling, I’ve entertained myself reading my husband’s blog, Kirby and his World. Those 18th century Brits were a wild and crazy bunch. Who but an eccentric English lady would stop traffic for an elaborate funeral for her beloved pet parrot?

no kidding, pet parrots were all the rage

parrots were all the rage

No kidding, you can read about it here.

Then there’s the amusing report about monkeys, also very much in vogue.

George Stubbs portrait of a monkey

George Stubbs portrait of a monkey

There is even post involving Blackbeard the pirate!

blackbeard

Those Brits really got around, but it wasn’t all romance and hijinks. When they weren’t involved in wild escapades a la Tom Jones,

Albert Finney in the 1963 film

Albert Finney in the 1963 film

they were dying in droves from assorted ailments like “Purples”, “Quinsy”, and “Headmouldshot”, which you should read about here. So get on your 18th century and take a good look at a great blog. And don’t forget to comment!

Installment #3 of the Cameron family saga coming soon!

This and that

by chuckofish

February is a month for catching up on dormant needlepoint projects,

Progress!

Progress!

organizing drawers,

drawer

and reading

febbooks

I am almost finished with Wendell Berry’s Hannah Coulter and I highly recommend it.

“As I have told it over, the past visible again in the present, the dead living still in their absence, this dream of time seems to come to rest in eternity. My mind, I think, has started to become, it is close to being, the room of love where the absent are present, the dead are alive, time is eternal, and all the creatures prosperous. The room of love is the love that holds us all, and it is ours. It goes back before we were born. It goes all the way back. It is Heaven’s. Or is it Heaven, and we are in it only by willingness. By whose love…do we love this world and ourselves and one another? Do you think we invented it ourselves? I ask with confidence, for I know you know we didn’t.”

What have you been doing?

A good laugh

by chuckofish

a-good-laugh

Let’s all have a good laugh in honor of the birthday of American cartoonist Charles Addams (January 7, 1912 – September 29, 1988)!

ned 1

Your wish is my command:

Are you laughing yet?

Don’t forget: “A merry heart doeth good like a medicine: but a broken spirit drieth the bones.” (Proverbs 17:22)

William and Mary loved of old

by chuckofish

On this day in 1693, the College of William and Mary in Williamsburg, Virginia was granted a charter by King William III and Queen Mary II.

William and Mary

Privately founded in 1693 by letters patent issued by King William III and Queen Mary, it is the second-oldest institution of higher education in the United States after Harvard University. (Some at W&M would argue that point.)

college-of-william-and-mary

U.S. Presidents Thomas Jefferson, James Monroe, and John Tyler were educated at William and Mary, as well as other key figures important in the development of the nation, including U.S. Supreme Court Chief Justice John Marshall, Speaker of the House Henry Clay, and 16 signers of the Declaration of Independence. And lest we forget, John Stewart is a graduate.

I have a Masters Degree (in history) from the College and spent a year living happily in Williamsburg.

Here is my dual personality in a Williamsburg garden when she visited me during her spring break at Smith.

Here is my dual personality in a Williamsburg garden when she visited me during her spring break at Smith.

I went back almost 30 years later when daughter #2 was visiting colleges in Virginia and North Carolina in 2007. A lot had changed, but much was the same. I was amazed by how little I actually remembered of the campus. Outside of the library and a few classrooms, I guess I didn’t spend a lot of time on campus. I think I had been much more engaged with Colonial Williamsburg, which was and still is a very cool place.

And now for the Interesting Family Sidebar!

Henry Compton, my husband’s ancestor, was the first chancellor of William and Mary (from 1693–1700 and again from 1707–1713). But this long-distance post was the least of his accomplishments!

Henry Compton was born in 1623, the 6th son of Spencer Compton, the Earl of Northampton. He and his brothers all served with their father during the English Civil War (on the Royalist side–boo). After the death of his father at the Battle of Hopton Heath, Henry left the army and made a career in the Church.

Henry_Compton_by_Sir_Godfrey_Kneller,_Bt

He was made Bishop of Oxford in 1674, and in the following year was translated to the see of London. He was also appointed a member of the Privy Council, and entrusted with the education of the two princesses – Mary and Anne. Being a staunch Protestant, he had nothing but trouble with James II, so it is no surprise that at the Glorious Revolution, Henry Compton embraced the cause of William and Mary. Indeed, he was one of the “Immortal Seven” who invited William to invade England. He stepped up and performed the ceremony of their coronation when others would not. His old position was restored to him, and among other appointments, he was chosen as one of the commissioners for revising the liturgy. During the reign of Anne he remained a member of the Privy Council, and was one of the commissioners appointed to arrange the terms of the union of England and Scotland. However, to his bitter disappointment, his claims to the primacy were twice passed over. He died at Fulham on 7 July 1713 and is buried at Compton Wynyates.

The old family home

The old family home

My husband’s progenitor, however, was actually Henry’s adopted son, the son of his cousin John Compton, who died in battle. Typical. Another hero who is merely a cousin! Well, Henry adopted the 14-year old and it was this man, John Compton II, who went to Maryland where Henry had been given a land grant. From afar, Henry helped set up the Anglican Church in Maryland.

As you can see, the Comptons started off rather brilliantly in this country. Unfortunately they went to seed in Kentucky (not without good reason I’m sure) following the Civil War and for some generations were probably akin to some of our favorite characters on “Justified”.

JUSTIFIED-1-articleLarge

All families have their ups and downs! It keeps us humble, right?

“Here’s to the sunny slopes of long ago.”

by chuckofish

It snowed in our flyover town over the weekend!

SNOW2

As an antidote to the cold winter weather (and because I had no real interest in the Super Bowl), I watched Lonesome Dove (1989) on Netflix Watch Instantly on Sunday and Monday nights. I had not seen it in a very long time. I read the book about two retired Texas Rangers who decide to take a herd of cattle on a 3,000-mile trek north to Montana in 1876 when it came out in paperback back in 1988 and loved it. The book won the Pulitzer Prize in 1985. (Various sequels and prequels by Larry McMurtry are, in my humble opinion, unequal to the original, due to their being way over the top in grossness and violence. But the original LD got it just right.)

The miniseries I associate with the year after my mother died when solace in any form was welcome and hard-to-come-by.

lonesomedove

Gus McCrae and Captain Call were a balm to me–at least for the four days in February 1989  the series aired. Gus was even a bit of a philosopher, handing out good advice right and left, such as this:

Lorie darlin’, life in San Francisco, you see, is still just life. If you want any one thing too badly, it’s likely to turn out to be a disappointment. The only healthy way to live life is to learn to like all the little everyday things, like a sip of good whiskey in the evening, a soft bed, a glass of buttermilk, or a feisty gentleman like myself.

Thank you, Gus and Woodrow. And thank you, Pea and Dish and Deets and Newt and July and Roscoe and Lorena and all the rest. It was nice to see you again.