dual personalities

Month: June, 2017

“Train up a child in the way he should go, Even when he is old he will not depart from it.”

by chuckofish

Tomorrow is our maternal grandfather’s birthday (Bunker Hill Day) and Sunday is Father’s Day. Here he is in c. 1929 with our mother.

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And here he is around 1964 again with our mother and her sister Susanne.

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Bunker (1900–1968) was quite a character (as I’ve written before) and our mother thought the world of him. He was a great sportsman and outdoorsman, a devoted fly-fisherman. He even went deep sea fishing at least once. He was a competitive table tennis player. It’s a good thing he never took up golf, because he would no doubt have become obsessed with that. The same goes for bridge. He loved baseball and Ted Williams and the Red Sox.

He took up furniture-making late in life as a hobby and turned out reproductions of antiques that were like works of art. He took classes and studied how to do it and read up on it and practiced and drew plans. Although not an academic per se, he was a student all is life. Our mother took after her father in that way.

Bunker was a manly man who didn’t have sons. C’est la vie.

So a toast to Bunker on his birthday and to all Fathers who do their best on Sunday. The boy will be celebrating his first Father’s Day–pretty exciting.

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Enjoy your weekend–keep cool!

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* Proverbs 22:6

Put on the robe of righteousness

by chuckofish

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I am an early riser. I get a lot done in the morning before I even go to work. One thing I frequently do when I ride my stationary bike is listen to podcasts–yes, podcasts–(thank you, daughter #1). I usually listen to sermons and sometimes Joyce Meyer.

Joyce is no Episcopalian and she is very down-to-earth in her interpretation of scripture. I like her a lot. She says things like, “Wherever you go for the rest of your life, there you are. Learn to love yourself,” which is not unlike something Emerson said way back when.

Here is her advice on how to reduce stress:

  1. Trust yourself and everything to God…. leave it and let it go and give it to God.
  2. Pray…God will not necessarily get rid of our problems, but he strengthens us and enables us to endure them.
  3. Know when to be quiet. You don’t have to convince people you are a good person. Think of Jesus before Pilate: “Jesus made no reply”.

Stress, she says, is what is going on inside us, not what is going on around us.

She is so right. There is nothing new here, but Joyce knows it is worth repeating over and over because that is the only way to get through to people. She knows too that usually there is no bolt-out-of-the-blue solution/cure for stressed out modern people. It takes work and time and practice. It takes a relationship with God.

I also like The Very Rev. Dr. Paul F. M. Zahl, who is a retired Episcopal priest. He formerly was rector of All Saints Episcopal Church in Chevy Chase, MD, and dean and president of Trinity Episcopal School for Ministry, Ambridge, PA. He is a lot more intellectual than Joyce Meyer, but I can still relate to him. He says things like:

But there is one risky question. It is the question, “How can I be justified?” This question has been asked by persons as diverse as St. Augustine in the Fourth Century, Martin Luther in the Sixteenth Century, and Sam Pekinpah the film director, in our own time. Pekinpah, by the way, said that the single question he pondered day and night his entire life was, How can I go down to my house justified?

There is good stuff out there. You just have to keep looking.

Set your minds on things that are above, not on things that are on earth, for you have died, and your life is hidden with Christ in God.

(Colossians 3:2-3)

Think of Him often, adore him continually, live and die with Him; that is the glorious business of a Christian; in a word, it is our calling; if we do not know that calling we must learn it.

–Brother Lawrence

(The painting is “Interior, Woman at a Bureau” by William Smith Anderson (Scottish, 1878-1929)

 

 

Gonna stand my ground

by chuckofish

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Today we celebrate Flag Day, which commemorates the adoption of the flag of the United States. You will recall that this happened on June 14, 1777, by resolution of the 2nd Continental Congress.

Huzzah!

And I thought this was interesting from Philip Roth in The New Yorker last week:

A Newark Jew—why not? But an American Jew? A Jewish American? For my generation of native-born—whose omnipresent childhood spectacle was the U.S.A.’s shifting fortunes in a prolonged global war against totalitarian evil and who came of age and matured, as high-school and college students, during the remarkable makeover of the postwar decade and the alarming onset of the Cold War—for us no such self-limiting label could ever seem commensurate with our experience of growing up altogether consciously as Americans, with all that that means, for good and for ill. After all, one is not always in raptures over this country and its prowess at nurturing, in its own distinctive manner, unsurpassable callousness, matchless greed, small-minded sectarianism, and a gruesome infatuation with firearms. The list of the country at its most malign could go on, but my point is this: I have never conceived of myself for the length of a single sentence as an American Jewish or Jewish American writer, any more than I imagine Dreiser and Hemingway and Cheever thought of themselves while at work as American Christian or Christian American or just plain Christian writers. As a novelist, I think of myself, and have from the beginning, as a free American and—though I am hardly unaware of the general prejudice that persisted here against my kind till not that long ago—as irrefutably American, fastened throughout my life to the American moment, under the spell of the country’s past, partaking of its drama and destiny, and writing in the rich native tongue by which I am possessed.

(from an acceptance speech for the National Book Foundation’s Medal for Distinguished Contribution to American Letters, delivered on November 20, 2002)

Hear, hear.

(The song is, of course, Johnny Cash covering the classic “I Won’t Back Down” by Tom Petty.)

The outlook wasn’t brilliant for the Mudville nine that day

by chuckofish

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“This was a new recognition that perfection is admirable but a trifle inhuman, and that a stumbling kind of semi-success can be more warming. Most of all, these exultant yells for the Mets were also yells for ourselves, and came from a wry, half-understood recognition that there is more Met than Yankee in every one of us. I knew for whom that foghorn blew; it blew for me.”

–Roger Angell, The Summer Game

Yes, let’s keep this in mind.

The Cards have had a rough few weeks, but things are looking up, okay? Can we all just lighten up?

“A wet knot stays tied longer’n a dry knot”*

by chuckofish

The realization that daughter #2 is getting married in three weeks (!) really hit me this weekend. Most things are taken care of and all, but a lot of people will be descending on our flyover town and–wow–it is a real thing.

Anyway, the OM got moving on his patio project and with the indispensable help of the boy, built a little paved space for the barbecue where there had previously been some bushes.

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I worked in the yard, pulling vines etc and generally wore myself out. It is a lot easier to do that these days.

I also started re-reading Jan Karon’s most recent book, the appropriately titled, Come Rain or Come Shine–about Dooley’s country wedding on the lawn, which is surprisingly similar to daughter #2’s planned nuptials. (Hers is not a potluck and there is no bull in the field, but…)

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‘Lord,’ he said aloud as he switched on the ignition, ‘may it please you to give us a wonderful day with good weather. That said, Lord–and I mean this sincerely–your will be done.’

I am committed to Father Tim’s attitude. I am not going to worry about the weather, there being no point. Que sera sera.

The wee babes came over for dinner with their parents on Saturday night.

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The twins turned 6 months old this weekend, but adjusted for preemies, they are like 3 month-olds. They have come so far! We are so thankful.

Have a good week!

*Willie in Come Rain or Come Shine

Those are the memories that make me a wealthy soul*

by chuckofish

The DH and I have fundamentally different approaches to cleaning house. He likes to do things incrementally, one box at a time, over a period of weeks or months. But when I get the urge to clean, which admittedly isn’t that often, I like to go at it all at once and get it done. After nearly twenty-eight years of marriage, we’ve learned when to do things my way and when to do things his way, which is to say that the incremental method prevails. We are slowly (oh so slowly) excavating our attic, although truth be told, this is one project that requires the DH’s tortoise-steady approach. It’s actually kind of fun to see what’s in boxes that have not been opened in decades. One contained an assortment of favorite baby clothes.

Those little outfits certainly bring back memories. 1990 was a good year in baby fashion, don’t you think?

In another box, I found a little metal box in which I had carefully filed cards for books that I read between 1971 and 1978. Not everything made it on the list, but it was interesting. 1973 included:

  • Jack London, The Call of the Wild (summer)
  • John Buchan, Prester John
  • Lloyd Douglas, The Robe
  • Roger Zelazny, Nine Princes in Amber
  • James Fenimore Cooper, The Last of the Mohicans
  • Mary Chase, “Harvey”
  • Harper Lee, To Kill a Mockingbird
  • Robert Graves, I, Claudius
  • Robert Graves, Goodbye to All That
  • Lew Wallace, Ben Hur
  • C. P. Wren, Beau Geste
  • W. Saroyen, The Human Comedy
  • C. S. Lewis, Out of the Silent Planet
  • John Buchan, Sick Heart River
  • John Buchan, The 39 Steps
  • Kingsley, “Men in White”
  • James Hilton, Lost Horizon
  • Victoria Holt, Bride of Pendorric 
  • Herb Gardner, “A Thousand Clowns”
  • E. M. Forster, A Passage to India 
  • Van Dyke, The Other Wise Man

In 1972, I seem to have read all the available Mary Stewart books and a few other quality romances, but I also managed some literature, including Jane Eyre,  Lord Jim, and The Deerslayer. I had eclectic tastes, and still do. It was fun looking through the card file, which besides the book cards contained this wonderful pencil (!) postcard posted July 13, 1973 by our dear brother.

He and a friend were hitchhiking to Alaska, where they planned to make piles of money working in a fish factory. In practical terms, the plan lacked some essentials, such as funding.

Hi, Faithful family,

Am at present on Rt. 15, almost to the Canadian border. Have had pretty good luck, having spent only $.70/each. Our longest wait was in Neb.(as might be expected) — five hours — on Wed. We were entertained in both K.C. and Casper by Tom’s friends, and on two occasions were fed by the people who had picked us up. We drove right by Teapot Dome in Wyo., and have seen some extraordinary sights in Montana, namely the head waters of the Missouri, and, of course, the Rockies. We figure that when we reach Edmonton, Alberta, we will be halfway to Alaska. If at all possible, we plan to cross the arctic circle. If we feel like it we may detour to see the Klondike in the Yukon. Am doing just fine — had apple pie for our last meal in the U.S.

Love, Your roving boy, Chris

Yes, folks, they each spent 70 cents, not 70 dollars. The postcard is quite clear on that. They were frugal because they were also broke. Alas, their lack of funds prevented them from entering Canada. They were turned back at the border by Mounties concerned that they did not have sufficient funds to see them through the wilderness. The story goes that they attempted to cross surreptitiously on foot, only to be chased back by border patrol. Things were different then, to say the least. Being young and carefree, my brother took the long route home, hitchhiking through the west and southwest on his way. No doubt he could tell us some wild stories.

I wonder what else I’ll find in the attic…

Before I sign off, I’d like to congratulate our nephew, Foster (son of the wild hitchhiker), who just defended his dissertation and earned his Ph.D. in History!! Here he is enjoying a few celebratory glasses of champagne!

Well done, Foster!

 

*Bob Seger, Travelin’ Man

 

Jesus, give the weary Calm and sweet repose

by chuckofish

It’s Friday already! I had a busy week and it zoomed by (which is usually the way, right?)

Anyway, I am ready for the weekend. We have been experiencing beautiful weather all week which I have not really been able to enjoy. Sometimes I sit on the patio after work, just to get outside for awhile. Of course, it’s supposed to get hot this weekend.

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C’est la vie.

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Hopefully I’ll get to see the wee babes.

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The wee babes wearing “peanut butter and jelly” onesies that some well-meaning friend made for them…zut alors! oh, the indignity…

Meanwhile I’ll toast my BFF, who has always been my sister and Dual Personality, because I guess yesterday was National BFF Day! Where do they come up with these things?

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Well, I never need an excuse to toast my DP…or to toast!

Now the day is over,
Night is drawing nigh,
Shadows of the evening
Steal across the sky.

Now the darkness gathers,
Stars begin to peep,
Birds, and beasts and flowers
Soon will be asleep.

Jesus, give the weary
Calm and sweet repose;
With Thy tenderest blessing
May mine eyelids close.

Grant to little children
Visions bright of Thee;
Guard the sailors tossing
On the deep, blue sea.

Comfort those who suffer,
Watching late in pain;
Those who plan some evil
From their sin restrain.

Through the long night watches
May Thine angels spread
Their white wings above me,
Watching round my bed.

When the morning wakens,
Then may I arise
Pure, and fresh, and sinless
In Thy holy eyes.

Glory to the Father,
Glory to the Son,
And to Thee, blest Spirit,
While all ages run.

–Sabine Baring-Gould

 Have a good weekend!

Thursday inspiration

by chuckofish

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He said not:

thou shalt not be troubled,

thou shalt not be tempted,

thou shalt not be distressed,

but He said:

thou shalt not be overcome.

–Julian of Norwich

(The painting is Big Sky, New Mexico by Eric Sloane)

“Top-heavy was the ship as a dinnerless student with all Aristotle in his head.”*

by chuckofish

So Bob Dylan finally made his Nobel Laureate acceptance speech, the only requirement to claim the money that comes with the prize, with several days to spare. (The deadline was June 10.)

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And of course he spent a long portion of his speech talking about Moby-Dick! Bob never disappoints.

Huzzah for Bob! And here’s some Moby-Dick for your mid-week inspiration:

“Whether to admit Hercules among us or not, concerning this I long remained dubious: for though according to the Greek mythologies, that ancient Crockett and Kit Carson–that brawny doer of rejoicing good deeds, was swallowed down and thrown up by a whale; still, whether that strictly makes a whaleman of him, that might be mooted. It nowhere appears that he ever actually harpooned his fish, unless, indeed, from the inside. Nevertheless, he may be deemed a sort of involuntary whaleman; at any rate the whale caught him, if he did not the whale. I claim him for one of our clan.”

I will also note the passing a few days ago of rock legend Gregg Allman (1947–2017) who had been sober for twenty years and was a Christian. Funnily enough, he ended up an EpiscopalianInto paradise may the angels lead you. At your coming may the martyrs receive you, and bring you into the holy city Jerusalem.

*Herman Melville, Moby-Dick

Went the day well?

by chuckofish

The OM and I watched a little known British film the other night called Went the Day Well? (1942). Adapted from a story by Graham Greene and directed by Alberto Cavalcanti, it is a classic black and white Ealing studio film that tells the story of how an English village is taken over by Nazi paratroopers pretending to be English troops. It reflects the greatest potential nightmare of many at the time.

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I thought it was quite a shocking film and very suspenseful. The Germans are evil, of course, and the English, at first, are innocent and trusting.

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A fifth columnist and a German masquerading as a British soldier stand ironically in front of the WWI memorial in the village.

The violence (although nothing like the violence in Hacksaw Ridge) is also shocking. The vicar is murdered! The postmistress is bayonetted! Children are threatened and one plucky boy is shot! You want to shake your fist at the goddam Nazis and grab a tommy gun and mow them down yourself, so it is very satisfying when the townspeople finally wise up and take matters into their own hands, i.e. they fight back. I wanted to cheer when the vicar’s homely daughter, who has been nursing a crush on the village squire, kills him before he can let the Nazis into the barricaded manor house.

http://www.tcm.com/mediaroom/video/971144/Went-The-Day-Well-Movie-Clip-Battle-Of-Bramley-End.html

It seems an appropriate choice to watch this movie on the anniversary of D-Day, don’t you think?