dual personalities

Month: September, 2013

A sheep of thine own fold

by chuckofish

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On Saturday I went to yet another funeral–this time for someone who we all felt would live forever. (Her mother died last year at 101.)

I had known Marian for years and years. She was an exceptional Churchwoman–chair of countless important diocesan committees, vestry member, head of the church school. Plus, you know, she was president of the Vassar Club and the Junior League. She was confident and organized and energetic–in a word: awesome. When I was chairman of the Musee de Noel (a monstrous fundraising effort organized by the Vassar, Smith and Bryn Mawr clubs for many years) and had no help from the hapless and helpless president of the Smith Club, Marian was my right-hand man.

She also changed my life. We were in a small prayer group together and she took me aside once and said (in so many words): “Katie, you can see the glass as half empty or see it as half full. It’s as simple as that. It’s your choice.” Really, it was one of those bolt-from-heaven-slap-in-the-face moments where you realize you have to pay attention and make a change.

And I did. I trained myself to see the glass as half full. It can be done. It is hard for us melancholy Scot types, but not impossible.

Anyway, I had to go back to my old church for her funeral, which is always a bit of a stressful undertaking.

The church was packed–picture a good turn-out on Easter–and the service, which the bulletin termed a “Requiem for the Repose of the Soul of MFC” let out all the stops. Usually the minister says the “I am the resurrection and the life saith the Lord” opening section of the “Order for the Burial of the Dead” as he processes down the aisle, but their “world-class” choir chanted it. They also sang the psalms, as well as anthems at the communion and the commendation, and so it all felt sort of like a performance. But oh well. If anyone deserved such a service, it was Marian. We got to sing three hymns and it was Rite One–always a treat nowadays.

The rector gave the homily and although I do not like him, I liked what he said. This is another reminder to pay ATTENTION, because you never know when or from whom you will hear something meaningful. What he said was quite puritan-like I thought: We are living in a botched creation. Heaven is the world as God wants it to be. But we will be raised, restored and finished. As Christians, Heaven is our destination. Alleluia.

I have to say it was good to be back at old Grace Church on Sunday. In contrast to the well-oiled machine that is my old church, it was business as usual. For example, the Intercessor prayed “For those who rest in China and for all the dead” instead of “those who rest in Christ.” Good grief–let’s remember to wear our glasses next time, honey. It made me chuckle.

Blessings to Marian who fought the good fight of faith and who rests in Christ.

The Timster turns 18

by chuckofish

Yep. My youngest turned 18 this week, and for the first time, he wasn’t home to celebrate with his family. We did exchange brief emails and I did send a birthday package, but he was too busy to chat (really, I’m not complaining). How times have changed! I still think of him like this

tim2

or this

Tim at fort nelson

— yes, that’s right, with a weapon in hand.

tim shooting

Tim was always the one who brought out the Morticia Addams in me… I remember once pausing in mid-sentence during a phone conversation with my dual personality to admonish serenely, “put the ax down, darling”. Life with boys can be like that. But it wasn’t always about weapons. Tim played Linus in the school Christmas play (front row, second from left).

tim as linus

And even if his Linus was on the tough side, he was still sweet and he did a perfect job delivering Linus’s culminating Bible verse. My Tim is all grown up now and I’ve very proud of him, but I can’t help feeling a little nostalgic, too.

High School Graduation

High School Graduation

Happy Birthday, Tim!

Blast from the past: Mountain Day

by chuckofish

Yesterday was Mountain Day at my Alma Mater Smith College. Every year the President of the college announces Mountain Day without prior notice, and the student body heads to the mountains or a park when the bells are rung early in the morning signaling no classes. Students are supposed to enjoy the beautiful fall day out and about appreciating the foliage. It has been a Smith tradition since 1877.

Here is the sophomore me circa 1975 doing just that with some fellow nerds who took the call seriously. The cool kids were still in bed.

I am in the middle row on the left in the pink sweater.

I am in the middle row on the left in the pink sweater.

We rode our bicycles out to Look Park with a picnic lunch. Of course we did.

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And it really was wonderful.

Today I spoke to a fellow alum who is 15 years older than I, and she said that when the Mountain Day bells chimed she hopped on the train to New Haven. Well, she would.

In the spirit of Mountain Day, here are the lyrics to “The Mountains”, the Alma Mater of Williams College, which I hope is still sung lustily and with feeling by the gallant and the free.

The Mountains

O, proudly rise the monarchs of our mountain land,
With their kingly forest robes, to the sky,
Where Alma Mater dwelleth with her chosen band,
And the peaceful river floweth gently by.

CHORUS
The mountains! the mountains! we greet them with a song,
Whose echoes rebounding their woodland heights along,
Shall mingle with anthems that winds and fountains sing.
Till hill and valley gaily, gaily ring.

Beneath their peaceful shadows may old Williams stand,
Till suns and mountains nevermore shall be,
The glory and the honor of our mountain land,
And the dwelling of the gallant and the free.

–Written by Washington Gladden, class of 1859

A musical note

by chuckofish

odetta-3

Today’s musical interlude is from Odetta, the legendary American folk, blues and jazz singer (December 31, 1930 – December 2, 2008). She influenced many folk singers of the fifties and sixties, including Bob Dylan, who said, “The first thing that turned me on to folk singing was Odetta. I heard a record of hers Odetta Sings Ballads and Blues in a record store, back when you could listen to records right there in the store. Right then and there, I went out and traded my electric guitar and amplifier for an acoustical guitar, a flat-top Gibson. … [That album was] just something vital and personal. I learned all the songs on that record.”

I have always loved this gospel standard and her version is pretty great. Remember Tennessee Ernie Ford? He had a syndicated daytime talk/variety show, The Tennessee Ernie Ford Show, that I watched sometimes in the summer when I was home and bored. He was called “the Ol’ Pea-Picker” because of his catch-phrase, “Bless your pea-pickin’ heart!” I had forgotten that he was awarded the Presidential Medal of Freedom in 1984 and was inducted into the Country Music Hall of Fame in 1990.

Anyway, isn’t it great that Odetta and TEF sang this duet back in the day and now we can enjoy it like this? Those guys humming in the background are all right too.

What are you reading?

by chuckofish

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Lately I have had a hard time finding something good to read. I have started several novels, but never gotten too far with any of them.

Then someone at work handed me a copy of The Bookshop by Penelope Fitzgerald. It is really good!

books

The novel, set mainly in 1959, centers around Florence Green, a middle-aged widow, who decides to open a bookshop in the small fictional town of Hardborough, Suffolk. The characters are expertly wrought with few wasted words.

“What seemed delicacy in him was usually a way of avoiding trouble; what seemed like sympathy was the instinct to prevent trouble before it started. It was hard to see what growing older would mean to such a person. His emotions, from lack of exercise, had disappeared almost altogether. Adaptability and curiosity, he had found, did just as well.”

Penelope Fitzgerald (17 December 1916 – 28 April 2000) was a Booker Prize-winning English novelist, poet, essayist and biographer. I had read Fitzgerald’s highly-touted final novel, The Blue Flower, published in 1995, which centers on the 18th century German poet and philosopher Novalis. I liked it, but I didn’t go on a Penelope Fitzgerald binge like I sometimes do with a newly discovered author.

I can relate.

I can relate.

She launched her literary career in 1975, at the age of 58, when she published a biography of Pre-Raphaelite artist Edward Burne-Jones (1833–1898). This was followed two years later by The Knox Brothers, a biography of her well-known father and uncles. Later, in 1977, she published her first novel, The Golden Child, a comic murder mystery with a museum setting inspired by the Tutankhamun mania earlier in the decade. Clearly a girl after my own heart.

I love a late-bloomer, don’t you? It gives one hope.

What are you reading?

Happy birthday, F. Scott Fitzerald

by chuckofish

(September 24, 1896 – December 21, 1940)

(September 24, 1896 – December 21, 1940)

I always felt kind of sorry for Fitzgerald. He had talent, but he also had a serious drinking problem and he married the wrong woman. That can be a deadly combination.

According to Wikipedia, Fitzgerald died at age 44 and was originally buried in Rockville Union Cemetery, an Anglican cemetery and the oldest burying ground in Rockville, Maryland. His daughter Scottie Smith worked to overturn the Archdiocese of Baltimore’s ruling that Fitzgerald had died a non-practicing Catholic, so that he could be buried at the Roman Catholic Saint Mary’s Cemetery where his father’s family was interred; this involved “re-Catholicizing” Fitzgerald after his death. His remains (and those of his Episcopalian wife Zelda) were moved to the family plot in Saint Mary’s Cemetery in Rockville, Maryland, in 1975.

Seriously?

“Oh, the poor son-of-a-bitch.”*

But I got a little side-tracked there. Here’s a quote:

“He did not understand all he had heard, but from his clandestine glimpse into the privacy of these two, with all the world that his short experience could conceive of at their feet, he had gathered that life for everybody was a struggle, sometimes magnificent from a distance, but always difficult and surprisingly simple and a little sad.”

― F. Scott Fitzgerald, Babylon Revisited and Other Stories

*The Great Gatsby

That old September feeling

by chuckofish

“Delicious autumn! My very soul is wedded to it, and if I were a bird I would fly about the earth seeking the successive autumns.”

― George Eliot

How was your weekend? Mine was very low-key. The weather was lovely. I went estate sale-ing but actually found something at one of my favorite antique malls.

I have been looking for a small desk or work table for some time now. I found a nice old slant-top desk (and a chair) for a wonderful price and snatched them up. I had to go home and get our trusty Subaru to transport it and then asked the boy to come over and get it out of the Subaru and upstairs. He, as usual, was more than willing to do so. I sure do appreciate his man-strength and his good humor.

desk

He also hung up a very large watercolor that I got at the Autumn Gallery Auction at our local auction house last week. It was their quarterly fancy auction as opposed to the monthly ones I usually go to. Sometimes I’ll just throw in a lowball silent bid to see what will happen and sometimes I win. Very exciting.

painting

We moved some things around and that is always fun.

I went to church on Sunday (five weeks in a row!) and we celebrated St. Matthew’s Day and had our annual picnic. It was a beautiful sunny day–perfect for outdoor dining, bouncy houses and bar-b-que.

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After doing some house cleaning and laundry, we wound down the day with these:

DQ

A perfect start to fall!

*The pictures from the church picnic are from the Grace church Facebook page.

Not to be negative

by chuckofish

but it was a super, super busy week — the kind that makes you feel like this

bill murray

instead of this

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and that leaves you incapable of coherent conversation.

nathan fillion

Just to make life perfect I have 40 papers to grade over the weekend. I can attest to the fact that

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What exciting things do you have planned for the weekend?

Friday movie pick: Hiya, Tightwad

by chuckofish

Recently I was reading Child Star by Shirley Temple Black, which she wrote back in 1988. She is, of course, the amazing film and television actress, singer and dancer, who became the U.S. ambassador to Ghana and Czechoslovakia as well as the White House Chief of Protocol for Gerald Ford. She began her film career in 1932 at the age of three, and in 1934 found international fame in Bright Eyes.

Inspired by her autobiography and the description of the behind-the-scenes goings on of Little Miss Marker (1934), I decided to watch it last week. Also, I had never seen this particular Shirley Temple movie.

Shirley Temple Black's favorite picture of herself from her movie career (from "Little Miss Marker")

Shirley Temple Black’s favorite picture of herself from her movie career (from “Little Miss Marker”)

Based on a story by Damon Runyon (of “Guys and Dolls” fame), it is about a little girl left with a bookmaker named Sorrowful Jones by her father as his “marker” to cover a bet on a horserace. He never returns, so Sorrowful reluctantly takes her in. His motley crew of fellow bookies takes to her and their cynical ways start to rub off on her. Hilarity ensues.

Watch this scene where the guys are passing the 5-year old Shirley around trying to guess her weight. It is classic. Notice when Shirley says, “I like it!” (at 4:12)–it is a key to the mystery of her amazing success.

Shirley Temple was a kid who liked what she was doing. She was having a good time most of the time and that comes across to the audience in spades. Smart as a whip, very few people could fool her and she did not suffer fools gladly. She also had a mother who kept an eagle eye on her at all times and stood up to the studio bosses as her daughter’s staunch advocate. They were a pretty awesome pair.

Anyway, I suggest you get ahold of a copy of Little Miss Marker and watch it tonight. It is a gem. And it is not a children’s movie. It was made for an adult audience. I remember my mother telling the story of how her parents came home from the movies one night and they had seen a film with an adorable little girl in it. My grandmother was over the moon–for Shirley Temple. I bet it was Little Miss Marker. The supporting cast includes Adolphe Menjou, Dorothy Dell, Charles Bickford, and a wonderful cadre of character actors. They don’t make ’em like that anymore.

Tout va bien

by chuckofish

Well, something nice happened to me yesterday.

I had had a long, hard day at work–leading a workshop at my flyover university. On the way home I needed to stop at the grocery store for a few things. Of course, it was raining.

It was one of those weird midwestern storms where you can clearly see the demarcation line of the storm: rain and sunny sky. It was thundering. By the time I was checking out it was pouring rain, a deluge of biblical proportions! But you could still see the sun shining off in the distance and god-rays shining down through the clouds.

Anyway, the amazing thing was–when I left the store, there were several young Dierberg’s employees waiting outside with big golf umbrellas to escort shoppers to their cars!

Dierbergs

Wasn’t that nice?

“In normal life we hardly realize how much more we receive than we give, and life cannot be rich without such gratitude. It is so easy to overestimate the importance of our own achievements compared with what we owe to the help of others.”

― Dietrich Bonhoeffer, Letters and Papers from Prison