dual personalities

Month: August, 2018

“Don’t point that finger at me unless you intend to use it.”*

by chuckofish

Woohoo, three-day weekend coming up!

I have no Big Plans but daughter #1 will be driving in from mid-MO.

We’ll barbecue, because…

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Maybe we’ll have a dance party…hopefully with the wee babes!

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No doubt we’ll watch a movie…

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Maybe we should watch a Neil Simon movie and toast him since he died this week at 91. The Odd Couple (1968) is always a solid choice and funnier than you remember.

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I can’t take it anymore, Felix, I’m cracking up. Everything you do irritates me. And when you’re not here, the things I know you’re gonna do when you come in irritate me. You leave me little notes on my pillow. Told you 158 times I can’t stand little notes on my pillow. “We’re all out of cornflakes. F.U.” Took me three hours to figure out F.U. was Felix Ungar!

Murder By Death (1976) is also quite funny–a satire of all those Agatha Christie-type mysteries featuring all the famous detectives you can think of. As I recall, David Niven and Maggie Smith steal the show as “Dick and Dora Charleston”.

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We can all relate to Truman Capote’s character, Lionel Twain, when he says:

You’ve tricked and fooled your readers for years. You’ve tortured us all with surprise endings that made no sense. You’ve introduced characters in the last five pages that were never in the book before. You’ve withheld clues and information that made it impossible for us to guess who did it. But now, the tables are turned. Millions of angry mystery readers are now getting their revenge. When the world learns I’ve outsmarted you, they’ll be selling your $1.95 books for twelve cents.

[Here’s an interesting article about Neil Simon and his influence on American society.]

Well, whatever you choose to do this long weekend, I hope you have a good one! Take a real break from your work and remember:

When we start being too impressed by the results of our work, we slowly come to the erroneous conviction that life is one large scoreboard where someone is listing the points to measure our worth. And before we are fully aware of it, we have sold our soul to the many grade-givers. That means we are not only in the world, but also of the world. Then we become what the world makes us. We are intelligent because someone gives us a high grade. We are helpful because someone says thanks. We are likable because someone likes us. And we are important because someone considers us indispensable. In short, we are worthwhile because we have successes. And the more we allow our accomplishments — the results of our actions — to become the criteria of our self-esteem, the more we are going to walk on our mental and spiritual toes, never sure if we will be able to live up to the expectations which we created by our last successes. In many people’s lives, there is a nearly diabolic chain in which their anxieties grow according to their successes. This dark power has driven many of the greatest artists into self-destruction.”
Henri J.M. Nouwen, Out of Solitude: Three Meditations on the Christian Life

*Oscar Madison in The Odd Couple

The camp-fires of the past

by chuckofish

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A soft veil dims the tender skies,
And half conceals from pensive eyes
The bronzing tokens of the fall;
A calmness broods upon the hills,
And summer’s parting dream distills
A charm of silence over all.The stacks of corn, in brown array,
Stand waiting through the placid day,
Like tattered wigwams on the plain;
The tribes that find a shelter there
Are phantom peoples, forms of air,
And ghosts of vanished joy and pain.

At evening when the crimson crest
Of sunset passes down the West,
I hear the whispering host returning;
On far-off fields, by elm and oak,
I see the lights, I smell the smoke,–
The Camp-fires of the Past are burning.

–“Indian Summer” by Henry Van Dyke

The painting is “Summer in the Blue Ridge” by Hugh Bolton Jones. Hugh Bolton Jones (1848-1927) was an American landscape painter. He grew up in Baltimore, Maryland, where he received his early training as an artist. While studying in New York he was strongly influenced by Frederic Edwin Church of the Hudson River School.

How I spent my summer

by chuckofish

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Can it be true? Are we really in the last week of August, the home stretch of summer? Say it ain’t so! Well, I can really relate to Sally, can’t you?

I read some good books (but no Tolstoy) and, although I watched no game shows, I watched a lot of old movies.

PpT1TDw.gifI went to quite a few estate sales.

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We finished our kitchen “update,” but did not make much progress in our basement clean-up. (This project moves to the fall list.)

We went to one baseball game.

We barbecued quite a few times and watched the wee babes get bigger.

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We enjoyed visits from two nephews, one niece, one BFF, two darling daughters, and DN.

I voted in the primary.

I took 5 days of vacation and got out of town, but the rest of the time, I was working! Contrary to popular belief, we do not slow down in the summer.

Pretty lame maybe, but pretty great too, if you ask me.

Therefore, my brothers and sisters, whom I love and long for, my joy and crown, stand firm in the Lord in this way, my beloved. (Philippians 4:1)

#Momhasanopinion

by chuckofish

I really hate reviews like the one of the re-make of Papillon in the Wall Street Journal where the reviewer manages to insult the current actor (Charlie Hunnam) and the original one (Steve McQueen) both without really knowing what he’s talking about.

Steve McQueen…was among the last of a species cultivated by classic Hollywood, an icon of cool and a performer who enjoyed an ineffable on-screen charisma that translated into an intimacy with his audience—they were all in on this joke called movies…McQueen was the furthest thing from a Method actor. In fact, he wasn’t even considered a great performer…But his particular kind of stardom made it possible to actually enjoy something like “Papillon,” with its bleakness and violence, its constant reversals of fortune, and the injustice at its center.

As if it was his “particular kind of stardom” that made him good, made him watchable. As if the system did it. The system was long gone when McQueen came to town.

Anyway, someone in Hollywood got the bright idea that Charlie Hunnam could be the new Steve McQueen, and they do have some things in common: handsome blond looks and the ability to ride a motorcycle. But it is a disservice to Hunnam, whom I really like, because let’s face it, there is no one like Steve. Let Charlie be Charlie.

Screen Shot 2018-08-27 at 5.31.02 PMRe-making Steve McQueen movies is like like trying to re-make John Wayne movies. It is a Bad Idea.

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But what really triggers me is when reviewers label Steve as the “King of Cool” as if that was something he tried to do. He just was cool, something those nerds don’t have a clue about. Hollywood didn’t make him cool. And, hey, he was a good actor! “In fact, he wasn’t even considered a great performer”–give me a break.

We know better.

Few things trigger me, but, as my children know, this is one of them.

“There’s so much to be grateful for, words are poor things.”*

by chuckofish

Monday again and daughter #2 and DN are heading home to Maryland. The long weekend rushed by  as usual.

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We had fun toasting our smart cookie with friends and family.

We also had fun visiting her wonderful wedding venue…

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and there was a whole lot of good instagramming going on…

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A good time was had by all (to say the least)! Everyone was home together. What could be better?

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Almighty God, our heavenly Father, who settest the solitary in families: We commend to thy continual care the homes in which thy people dwell. Put far from them, we beseech thee, every root of bitterness, the desire of vainglory, and the pride of life. Fill them with faith, virtue, knowledge, temperance, patience, godliness. Knit together in constant affection those who, in holy wedlock, have been made one flesh. Turn the hearts of the parents to the children, and the hearts of the children to the parents; and so enkindle fervent charity among us all, that we may evermore be kindly affectioned one to another; through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen. (BCP)

*Marilynne Robinson, Home

Back to school

by chuckofish

Well, it’s back to school on Monday and I confess that the prospect of all that grading fills me with ennui.

Lowry, Laurence Stephen; Coming Out of School; Tate. I can’t help feeling that this should be about going into school — it’s glum enough.

I turned to my old college papers for inspiration and they did not disappoint.

Consider, for example, this excerpt from the lengthy comment pictured above, on the left:

You have problems of organization, diction and style. Mainly, you repeat the same words and phrases both in the same paragraph and in different parts of the paper. One gets the sense of going around in circles, like a dog looking for a place to sit, as one tries to follow the progression of your argument….The sooner you learn to write a paper, the better off you’ll be and the easier the next three years will be.

Or take this gem from a first semester freshman year English paper:

Nowadays it’s hard to imagine how a student would react to such comments, although back in the late ’70s I took the criticism reasonably well, in the first case because I knew that I had written a bad paper (the 8th poem of Catullus did not inspire) and in the second because I loved and respected the professor. My main problem was that I had not yet developed the habits of good paper writing: (1) master the material; (2) plan thoroughly, and (3) revise, revise, revise. Gradually, through hard work and careful attention to professors’ comments, I taught myself how to write a paper. My efforts paid off and my grades improved dramatically. I still apply what I learned in college about writing, but much remains for me to learn. Despite being an old lady, I keep trying to improve because I find the struggle satisfying.

What if my professors had not been so forthright? We laugh when we see things like this,

because we find them outrageous, but is being honest really so bad? While there’s no excuse for cruelty, maybe our children/students would be better prepared to face life if we spent less time preserving their feelings and more time showing them how to fix their mistakes.

Just some pre-semester thoughts. Have a delightful weekend and edit carefully!

Rolling into the weekend

by chuckofish

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Cheers to drinking lunchtime margaritas on the Amigo’s deck in August. Unheard of, but that’s what we did yesterday. We walked around the neighborhood and hung out with the wee babes and their parents for a little bit. Then we ate homemade mac ‘n cheese and watched The Big Sleep (1946) which DN had never seen.

Kind of a perfect day.

Daughter #2 and DN are driving down to Columbia (in the rain) to spend the day with daughter #1 today, so I am back at the salt mine. But it’s Friday and the weekend beckons…and we’re having a celebratory party for our new PhD on Saturday.

Have a good weekend!

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“Would you like to swing on a star/Carry moonbeams home in a jar”*

by chuckofish

Today daughter #2 and DN arrive from Maryland so we can continue the fêting that began last week.

Screen Shot 2018-08-22 at 10.17.42 AM.pngIt will be a quick visit but they will have ample time to see the wee babes on multiple occasions…even though the babes are now in pre-school/daycare and carry tiny backpacks…

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I anticipate super fun.

O God, our heavenly Father, whose glory fills the whole creation, and whose presence we find wherever we go: Preserve those who travel; surround them with your loving care; protect them from every danger; and bring them in safety to their journey’s end; through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen. (BCP)

*Johnny Burke / Jimmy Van Heusen

Men and angels sing

by chuckofish

Today is the 170th wedding anniversary of Julia Dent and Ulysses Grant, who were married on a hot evening in her father’s townhouse at Fourth and Cerre streets in St. Louis in 1848. Anticipating the extreme heat, Julia had planned to wear a simple, cool muslin gown for the ceremony, but Mrs. John J. O’Fallon, a family friend, brought her a watered-silk gown with a tulle veil. Another friend, Mrs. Henry Shurlds, provided fresh jessamine blossoms. [No photo available, darn it.]

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Since Col. Frederick Dent’s house was relatively small, the guest list was held to the Dents’ oldest and closest St. Louis friends. Julia’s attendants were her sister Nellie, her cousin Julia Boggs, and Sarah Walker. Among Grant’s groomsmen were Lt. Cadmus Wilcox and Bernard Pratte III, both of whom were later to surrender to Gen. U.S. Grant at Appomattox.

Here are some pictures of the Dent home as it aged through the years…

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Sigh. Well, the least we can do is toast old Julia and Lyss on their anniversary. They were, by all accounts, a happy couple, deeply committed to each other and their family.

Side note from the Small World Department: one of my DP’s best friends growing up was a descendant of the aforementioned O’Fallons. According to Wikipedia, John J. O’Fallon (1791 – December 17, 1865) was a businessman, philanthropist, and military officer. During the 19th century he rose to become the wealthiest person in St. Louis. He is the namesake of O’Fallon, Illinois (incorporated in 1874) as well as O’Fallon, Missouri, and the nephew of William Clark (of Lewis and Clark). O’Fallon and Frederick Dent were both founders of the Episcopal Church in St. Louis. Nice to know that there are still O’Fallons in town.

Speaking of childhood friends, yesterday I went to the funeral of the mother of one of mine. She was 98, so it was sparsely attended, but there was a dedicated phalanx of very old, very thin, very erect, well-coiffed women in St. John suits. I felt underdressed and under-coiffed in my work attire, but c’est la vie. The service, held at the church I attended as a child, was the Episcopal short-version, Beverly having stipulated that her service run no longer than 25 minutes. Indeed, Beverly was still Beverly up until the end: the minister said that in the emergency room the night before she died, Beverly had taken umbrage with the nurses for messing up her hair. I had to chuckle picturing that. By the way, this is the lady who was the originator of the “Smell the pine in your nostrils” trope, so beloved in my family.

Well, I tried my best to speak the prayers loudly and sing audibly, since hardly anyone else was able to, but the singing was a challenge. By the fifth verse of Onward Christian Soldiers, I was very ready to throw in the towel. I was glad I went, however, as it was a pleasure to sit in this light-filled sanctuary and remember back to my youth when I giggled my way through Sunday School with this particular friend.

Into your hands, O merciful Savior, we commend your servant Beverly. Acknowledge, we humbly beseech you, a sheep of your own fold, a lamb of your own flock, a sinner of your own redeeming. Receive her into the arms of your mercy, into the blessed rest of everlasting peace, and into the glorious company of the saints of light.

I heard this old song on the radio going to work the other day and thought I’d share it.

(BTW, that is not DN playing the drums, although I did do a double-take when I was watching this video.)

(Information regarding Julia Dent’s wedding from Frances Hurd Stadler, St. Louis Day By Day)

What are you reading?

by chuckofish

As I mentioned, I re-read The Searchers by Alan Le May last week. It is a terrific book in the western genre. General Sherman is mentioned at one point in reference to his visit to Texas in 1871 on an inspection tour where he narrowly avoided being part of the Warren Wagon Train Massacre. So I thought I would look in his Memoirs to see what he had to say about it. As it turned out, he didn’t have much to say about the Indians in the West.

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I think by this time in his career, he was winding down, at least in terms of what he was willing to write about. He brings his memoirs to a close shortly thereafter:

This I construe as the end of my military career. In looking back upon the past I can only say, with millions of others, that I have done many things I should not have done, and have left undone still more which I ought to have done; that I can see where hundreds of opportunities have been neglected, but on the whole am content; and feel sure that I can travel this broad country of ours, and be each night the welcome guest in palace or cabin; and, as “all the world’s a stage, and all the men and women merely players,” I claim the privilege to ring down the curtain.

Spoken like a true Episcopalian.

I also have been reading Things that Matter by Charles Krauthammer, which the boy gave to the OM for his birthday back in July. It is a collection of Krauthammer’s “essential, timeless writings.”

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Krauthammer died in June of this year and I  miss him.

“Delta Airlines, you might have noticed, does not run negative TV ads about USAir. It does not show pictures of the crash of USAir Flight 427, with a voice-over saying: “USAir, airline of death. Going to Pittsburgh? Fly Delta instead.” And McDonald’s, you might also have noticed, does not run ads reminding viewers that Jack in the Box hamburgers once killed two customers. Why? Because Delta and McDonald’s know that if the airline and fast-food industries put on that kind of advertising, America would soon be riding trains and eating box-lunch tuna sandwiches. Yet every two years the American politics industry fills the airwaves with the most virulent, scurrilous, wall-to-wall character assassination of nearly every political practitioner in the country—and then declares itself puzzled that America has lost trust in its politicians.”

What are you reading?

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