It is January 19 and time to note once again the birthday of our dear mother, Mary, born in 1926. She would be 95! She would not recognize much about our world today and I have no doubt she would feel even more of a pilgrim and a stranger than she did in 1988 when she died.
Be that as it may, I will toast her tonight and watch one of her favorite movies–something with Errol Flynn or John Wayne or possibly Shane. I will remember sitting in the darkened theater with her and how she would lean over and whisper to me to notice something special. I will think of her in that house by the bend in the river where the cottonwoods grow.
P.S. Happy Birthday to Dolly Parton, who as you know, celebrates her birthday on this date as well. Happy 75th!
We did not do anything very exciting this weekend–at least not as exciting as going to a Zoom wedding like daughter #2 and Baby Katie, who attended her BFF Edwina’s nuptials on Saturday. They got dressed up and DN popped the Prosecco and it was a whole thing. I salute Edwina and Kevin for not putting it off because of the crazy time we live in. Because as Harry said to Sally, ““When you realize you want to spend the rest of your life with a person, you want the rest of your life to start as soon as possible.”
Speaking of movies, the other night we watched Action in the North Atlantic (1943) a typical Warner Brothers patriotic war film of that era starring Humphrey Bogart as the 1st Officer on a Liberty Ship in a convoy bound from Halifax to Murmansk. After German subs crush the convoy, his ship loses the convoy and heads alone to Murmansk.
In spite of attacks by German planes and a sneaky Nazi sub and the captain being wounded, the gallant crew manages to get the cargo through. I was quite impressed by the special effects wizardry–the whole thing was filmed in a tank on the back lot! Anyway, the movie works as an effective propaganda tool for recruiting for the wartime Merchant Marines. There is even a moving burial at sea scene where Bogart reads a good portion of the naval service for eight seamen who have died to which he adds:
Now, that’s the word of God. And it’s good. But I don’t think He’d mind if I put my oar in. These are eight men we knew and liked, guys like us. Guys we ate with and slept with and fought with. Well, we were just a little luckier than they were. We’ll miss them. All of them.
This all reminded me of one pf those “luckier guys” I was reading about in the Jewish Light obits recently, who died in his nineties. He had joined the Army Air Corps during WWII at 19. As a ball turret gunner in B17 bombers, he flew 33 missions over Germany. Back in St. Louis after the war, Lou worked in advertising for over 44 years. He had big accounts–“Everything from Scoop to Nuts”–and a good long life. But he was a ball turret gunner at 19! That’s the guy who hangs from the belly of the plane armed with two machine guns. Let’s just take a moment.
Lest we forget. Regular guys do amazing things and they do it 33 times.
Forgive me if I got a little off track there, but that’s how my mind works. The wee babes came over Sunday with their parents for taco night. We caught up on the weeks activities and gazed at the fire.
I just love the fire.
I hope you enjoy your day off (if you have one).
Jesus said, “I say to you that listen, Love your enemies, do good to those who hate you, bless those who curse you, pray for those who abuse you. If anyone strikes you on the cheek, offer the other also; and from anyone who takes away your coat do not withhold even your shirt. Give to everyone who begs from you; and if anyone takes away your goods, do not ask for them again. Do to others as you would have them do to you.
“If you love those who love you, what credit is that to you? For even sinners love those who love them. If you do good to those who do good to you, what credit is that to you? For even sinners do the same. If you lend to those from whom you hope to receive, what credit is that to you? Even sinners lend to sinners, to receive as much again. But love your enemies, do good, and lend, expecting nothing in return. Your reward will be great, and you will be children of the Most High; for he is kind to the ungrateful and the wicked. Be merciful, just as your Father is merciful.
Luke 6:27–36 (The lesson appointed for use on the feast of Martin Luther King, Jr.)
*Robert Robinson, 1758, Come Thou Fount of Every Blessing. I am glad to know that this old English hymn is still sung, including many times by the David Crowder Band. Who doesn’t love Crowder?
I had a busy week. I tested negative for Covid (to no one’s surprise) and taught the first classes of the semester via Zoom. We start in-person next week. In preparation for the start of my semester, I decided to color my own hair. I’ve never done this before, but given its awful trend toward an unnatural red (presumably, the product of months of harsh shampoo and color-neglect due to Covid), I thought “why not?”
So, I trundled off to the local drug store, grabbed a box of medium brown Loréal hair color and high-tailed it home. It took me a few days to drum up the nerve to do the deed, but after loads of online tutorials, I felt ready. It is a messy, smelly job and the dye gets everywhere. Fortunately, I anticipated this and had plenty of towels and plastic sheeting available, so I did not ruin my white bathroom sink or dye my hands. Anyway, it worked, and although it turned out darker than what I would call ‘medium brown’, at least my hair matches my eyebrows now.
One day soon I’ll just go salt-and-pepper gray, because the hair-coloring thing makes me feel vain. There’s a fine line between wanting to look nice and spending too much time on appearances. Apparently, this vanity problem is universal and it doesn’t apply only to women. In ancient Rome even men obsessed about how they looked. In his essay “On the Shortness of Life”, Seneca described fops who spent all their time at the barber’s:
“Again, do you call those men leisured who spend many hours at the barber’s simply to cut whatever grew overnight, to have a serious debate about every separate hair, to tidy up disarranged locks or to train thinning ones from the sides to lie over the forehead? How angry they get if the barber has been a bit careless – as if he were trimming a real man! How they flare up if any of their mane is wrongly cut off, if any of it is badly arranged, or if it doesn’t fall into the right ringlets! Which of them would not rather have his country ruffled than his hair?”
There’s really nothing new under the sun, is there?
Now it’s Saturday, halfway through January and snowing big, wet, heavy flakes — the kind that will make great snowmen but be horrible to shovel.
I don’t have anywhere I need to be today, so I will just hunker down with a mug of cocoa, a good book and a blanket. What could be better?
Have a great weekend, and if you have to take personal grooming into your own hands due to Covid restrictions, just be sure to read the directions carefully!
What a week! Besides the usual internet technical issues that delineate my life these days, this creepy thing happened after I had retired for the evening and was reading in bed. Out of the blue a large potted plant spontaneously fell off a table and shattered, causing quite a mess. There had been no earth tremor, no sonic boom, no truck rumbling by, nothing to precipitate this happening. We have no pets that wreck havoc. What was the cause that brought about this effect?
Well, we all know that plants do move…
…and I guess my aloe plant moved just enough to knock itself off the tippy trivet on which the pot was placed.
Anyway, I had to get out of bed and clean the mess all up. (I will say my Shark vacuum cleaner made short work of the dirt debris left on the carpet after I had scooped most of it up. It looked like one of those commercials.) I repotted the plant the next day.
The world is more than we know (and not always what it seems.)
In other news, the wee laddie learned a new word last Sunday. Bugatti.
It is rather novel to hear a four-year old speak about “his Bugatti.” As you can imagine, he “loves that car,” which belonged to the OM in his childhood during the Punic Wars. For the time being, he has forgotten about “his Cooper.”
And here’s a photo from Christmas 1996–24 years ago–which I found stuck in a book. Daughters #1 and 2 are sure stylin’ in their red corduroy shorts!
Daughter #1 was 12 and #2 was 6. In six years or so, the height difference was reversed. Swiftly flow the days…
Sigh. Well, it may snow today. We’ll see. But huzzah and hurray–it’s a three-day weekend!
*Psalm 106:25; read the whole psalm here. Yes, the Bible speaks to us, even today.
Yesterday my sister wrote a very thoughtful post that quoted a variety of sources and had a clear message about the gift of life. Today, I have something along the lines of: “Sitting is fun!”
But seriously, sitting is really fun. We do a lot of it around here, and we do a lot of remarking about how big and grown up Katie looks while sitting. Toys can be played with in myriad new ways. It’s thrilling.
The hair bow did not last long
Rest assured, we still love tummy time, though we don’t stay on our tummies too long before we start rolling around like a nut ball. Katie has also become very interactive with books, though properly turning pages is often an accidental byproduct of trying to shove the whole thing in her mouth. (Literal) baby steps.
Just for some additional precious angel vibes, I will leave you with this:
“Richard, what’s happening?”
Katie sporting a new hat and booties from her Aunt Mary, fresh from a care package. “Priority Mail” (see background) might be an oxymoron these days, but it is the case that we are now receiving all of the retail therapy orders we placed as the holidays concluded. (My order included the chambray pants Katie has on.) Is Katie the beneficiary, or are we?!
I woke up this morning and thought it was Saturday. I then realized it was only Tuesday morning. It’s that sort of week. It is tempting to dwell in that. To wallow.
When I feel like a good cry, I have been known to turn to Awakenings. Based on Oliver Sacks’s 1973 memoir of the same title, it tells the story of a fictional character based on Sacks who, in 1969, he discovered beneficial effects of the drug L-Dopa. He administers it to catatonic patients who survived the 1917–28 epidemic of encephalitis lethargica and who awaken after decades and have to deal with a new life in a new time. My mother’s post yesterday reminded me of this great line:
Read the newspaper. What does it say? All bad. It’s all bad. People have forgotten what life is all about. They’ve forgotten what it is to be alive. They need to be reminded. They need to be reminded of what they have and what they can lose. What I feel is the joy of life, the gift of life, the freedom of life, the wonderment of life!
Leonard, Awakenings
Does anyone else feel that we have forgotten this? Life is a gift, meant to be lived.
I was also reading posts from several years ago and found a link to this article about It’s A Wonderful Life. Now, I will admit that It’s a Wonderful Life is not one of my favorites. Uncle Billy triggers me every year. But, this got me thinking:
The angel takes him back through his life to show how our ordinary everyday efforts are really big achievements.
Clarence reveals how George Bailey’s loyalty to his job at the building-and-loan office has saved families and homes, how his little kindnesses have changed the lives of others and how the ripples of his love will spread through the world, helping make it a better place.
Jimmy Stewart describing the plot.
Individuals do matter. And how you treat those around does matter. No matter how small or unimportant you think they are. I mean, I for one recognize that it’s much easier to be a happy person when you are surrounded by other happy people. When I lived in New York, I thought this was the funniest line in Ghostbusters II:
I also thought I was cool because I understood it. Now, I am so thankful that that is not my outlook anymore. I am thankful that people smile at me on the sidewalk and that I smile back. I am thankful that checkers look me in the eye and tell me to have a pleasant day. I am grateful for grocery stores. And those in the drive thru. It’s nice to be surrounded by people happy to be alive. Maybe life isn’t the way they want it to be or how they thought it would be, maybe it is, regardless, they’re pleasant. And this spreads to those around them. I used to hate going to Trader Joe’s where it seems they exclusively hire chatty people who make comments like “Wow, 9/11, it must be tough to have that as a birthday,” when carding you. Cue my withering glance. Now, sometimes I find myself chatting and enjoying it. What has the world come to?
I went to inauguration on Monday. It was peaceful and rather sparsely attended. The Governor used about every cliche in the book in his optimistic speech–half of which I’m pretty sure were middle school yearbook themes in the 90s (ie This is our time!)–but he’s right. It was a hard year (although looking back I find it went incredibly fast) but we have to keep our chins up and believe things will get better.
Today I thought we’d have a little pop quiz. Here are quotes from a dozen or so of my favorite movies. Can you guess them? If you can, good for you! Watch the movies–there’re all great ones.
Waiter, will you serve the nuts? I mean, will you serve the guests the nuts?
I don’t think I’ve ever drunk champagne before breakfast before. With breakfast on several occasions, but never before.
Well, there are some things a man just can’t run away from.
– I’ve heard about you.
-What have you heard?
-I’ve heard that you’re a low-down Yankee liar.
– Prove it.
Courage! What makes a king out of a slave? Courage! What makes the flag on the mast to wave? Courage! What makes the elephant charge his tusk in the misty mist, or the dusky dusk? What makes the muskrat guard his musk? Courage! What makes the sphinx the seventh wonder? Courage! What makes the dawn come up like thunder? Courage! What makes the Hottentot so hot? What puts the “ape” in apricot? What have they got that I ain’t got?
I’ll organize revolt, exact a death for a death, and I’ll never rest until every Saxon in this shire can stand up free men and strike a blow for Richard and England.
Face it, girls, I’m older and I have more insurance.
Read the newspaper. What does it say? All bad. It’s all bad. People have forgotten what life is all about. They’ve forgotten what it is to be alive. They need to be reminded. They need to be reminded of what they have and what they can lose. What I feel is the joy of life, the gift of life, the freedom of life, the wonderment of life!
So what else is on your mind besides hundred-proof women, ninety-proof whiskey, ‘n’ fourteen-carat gold?
You wanna hurt me? Go right ahead if it makes you feel any better. I’m an easy target. Yeah, you’re right, I talk too much. I also listen too much. I could be a cold-hearted cynic like you… but I don’t like to hurt people’s feelings. Well, you think what you want about me; I’m not changing. I like… I like me. My wife likes me. My customers like me. ‘Cause I’m the real article. What you see is what you get.
Impetuous! Homeric!
It’s money and adventure and fame. It’s the thrill of a lifetime and a long sea voyage that starts at six o’clock tomorrow morning.
I don’t like disturbances in my place. Either lay off politics or get out!
It took me a long, long time to learn my elbow from a hot rock.
You believe what you want. You work your side of the street, and I’ll work mine.
And here’s one more question: Do you think I relate to Doris Day, Thelma Ritter or Rock Hudson in the following scene:
I’ll post the answers in the Comments section later today. Until then, I’ll see you at the movies…
How was your weekend? Mine was very quiet. The weather was cold and gray and overcast–very conducive to staying home and reading. The wee babes shook things up a bit by coming over on Sunday to celebrate there mother’s belated birthday. We had meatloaf (her fave) and birthday cake and opened a few more presents.
This was real cake…not cornbread in disguise. The OM had very specific instructions when he went to the store.
From November 28 through January 6 it is one big birthday party in their little family–with Christmas thrown in for good measure. Zut alors! Daughter #3 is a good sport about her anti-climactic day.
The babes have been back at school for a week and are happy to have returned to their old routine. I wish I could say the same. C’est la vie–Zoom classes! Oh well.
But this is great: Seven Things I Pray You Experience in the New Year by James Smith, one of Charles Spurgeon’s predecessors at New Park Street Chapel in London. And, BTW, “Laodicean” means lukewarm. I looked it up.
Have a good week.
The Lord bless you and keep you; the Lord make his face to shine upon you and be gracious to you; the Lord lift up his countenance upon you and give you peace.
2021 is not shaping up to be a particularly pleasant year (notice my use of understatement). My normal response when I think the world is heading in a particularly crazy direction is to retreat into my comfort zone, which means staying home, rereading or re-watching old favorites and eating chocolate. Yesterday, while talking to my DP, I mentioned several of my favorite rereads: children’s books (C.S. Lewis, Kipling, Frances Hodgson Burnett…) and 60s popular fiction (Mary Stewart, Alistair MacLean, Helen MacInnis), but I forgot to mention Dick Francis, the author of more than forty horse-racing mysteries.
As a former jockey himself, he knew his stuff. After riding for the Queen Mother for many years, he retired in 1957 and soon devoted himself to writing.
Sure, his books follow a formula, but that is what makes them so pleasant. The reader can always count on his heroes to be stalwart, intelligent, decent men, and his heroines to exhibit equivalent feminine qualities. There are no superhero antics, no space-age gadgetry, and no cheap deus ex machina endings — just good pacing, mild peril and solid detective work. Not only does Francis teach the reader a lot about horses and horse-racing, but he offers the average Joe an achievable model of behavior. For example, in Whip Hand he wrote, “I guessed life was like that. You gained and you lost, and if you saved anything from the ruins, even if only a shred of self-respect, it was enough to take you through the next bit.”* Now that’s a good attitude.
So, if you feel the need for escape but have re-read your usual comfort books, I recommend you read some Dick Francis.
This might be helpful to you if you are feeling down.
Poetry helps.
The Want of Peace by Wendell Berry
All goes back to the earth, and so I do not desire pride of excess or power, but the contentments made by men who have had little: the fisherman’s silence receiving the river’s grace, the gardener’s musing on rows.
I lack the peace of simple things. I am never wholly in place. I find no peace or grace. We sell the world to buy fire, our way lighted by burning men, and that has bent my mind and made me think of darkness and wish for the dumb life of roots.
Here is Paul Zahl’s list of TCM movie picks for January. Since I don’t watch television except for old reruns of Adam-12, I am always looking for new (old) movies to watch and this list offers some good ideas as well as some classics to re-view.
“Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy and my burden is light.” (Matthew 11:28-30)
dual personalities 