dual personalities

Month: November, 2021

November 11, 2021

A labyrinth of loves

by chuckofish

We know it is November because the Christmas Cactus is throwing out buds like crazy! So excitiing!

In other news, I was talking to the boy one day last week and we were discussing my blogpost about my Top 10 favorite/best films. He asked me why I hadn’t included To Kill a Mockingbird (1962) and I said, Oh my gosh, because I forgot it! It definitely belongs in the Top 10, maybe Top 5.

So I’ll have to revise my Top 10 and move To Have and Have Not down to 11-15. Sheesh. I am getting old. He also questioned my exclusion of The Professionals (1967) and I said it would definitely be in the top 20 list. So I guess I will start working on a Top 11-20 list. We are such nerds. But I am thankful that I have a son with whom I can discuss movies.

Since it is Veterans Day, which we should all acknowledge, I propose to watch one of my favorite war movies. I looked up on the AFI website to see if they had a top 100 war movies list, but they do not. In fact, there are only six war movies in their top 100 list! Of course, only one of them is a favorite of mine: #37 The Best Years of Their Lives (1946).

The other five are: #52 From Here to Eternity (1953); #54 All Quiet on the Western Front (1930); $79 The Deer Hunter (1978); #83 Platoon (1986); #89 Patton (1970). Not terrible movies, but not favorites of mine.

No, I would suggest watching one of these WWII movies in memory of WWII Guy: They Were Expendable (1945); 12 O’Clock High (1949); Air Force (1943); or The Great Escape (1962).

If you’re not in the mood for WWII, I suggest: Drums Along the Mohawk (1939); She Wore a Yellow Ribbon (1949); The Horse Soldiers (1959); The Sand Pebbles (1966); or Glory (1989).

I ain’t much about no prayin’, now. I ain’t never had no family, and… Well, I just… Y’all’s the onliest family I got. I love the 54th. Ain’t even much a matter what happens tomorrow, ’cause we men, ain’t we?

Today the Lutheran Church celebrates the feast day of Soren Kierkegaard, the Danish writer, philosopher and theologian, who died on this day in 1855. That is interesting considering Kierkegaard was extremely critical of the practice of Christianity as a state religion, particularly the Church of Denmark. But I’m okay with old Soren, so let us pray one of his prayers:

O Lord, calm the waves of this heart; and calm its tempests. Calm yourself, O my soul, so that the divine can act in you. Calm yourself, O my soul, so that God is able to repose in you, so that his peace may cover you. Yes, Father in Heaven, often have I found that the world around me cannot give me peace, O but make me feel that you are able to give me peace.  Let me know the truth of your promise, that the whole world may not take away your peace. Amen.

I think this is true.

And I can’t tell you how much watching this reminds me of my mother. What do you think the Queen carries in her purse?

Finally, here is a poem “To the Son” by Jorge Luis Borges:

It was not I who begot you. It was the dead—

my father, and his father, and their forebears,

all those who through a labyrinth of loves

descend from Adam and the desert wastes

of Cain and Abel, in a dawn so ancient

it has become mythology by now,

to arrive, blood and marrow, at this day

in the future, in which I now beget you.

I feed their multitudes. They are who we are,

and you among us, you and the the sons to come

that you will beget. The latest in the line

and in red Adam’s line. I too am those others.

Eternity is present in the things

of time and its impatient happenings

–translated by Alistair Reid

Enjoy the day! Read a poem.

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November 10, 2021

Tassels really up the ante, don’t you think

by chuckofish

I wore these shoes on Monday because how can one be unhappy with giant tassels/pom poms on one’s shoes? Well, I didn’t wear them today and my mood tonight reflects the brown loafer mules I wore instead. That is to say,

I finished the first of my sewing projects last week–but not before accidentally cutting a giant hole in the bodice and having to get creative with my bow placement. As one does. The sewing world really utilizes all the parts of one’s brain. Can’t recommend it enough.

Also, on Sunday, I realized that I really needed some background TV, that is TV that doesn’t require attention so that I can get stuff done while it is on. So I signed up for Sling and the Hallmark Channel (just until January) and boy, I gave up Hallmark movies at some point in 2021 and I have not missed a thing. They just crack me up. The movie I saw was about a girl who plays violin at a restaurant but is afraid to audition for the Philharmonic because the one time she tried she got the hiccups and embarrassed herself. A man moves in nextdoor who is a writer and a grump who hates Christmas and won’t decorate even though the whole street goes all out. Somehow, he ends up having to watch his niece and nephew for several days and they want to decorate so the girl next store helps and they go ice skating and bake cookies and eventually fall in love but not before there is a misunderstanding about relationship status. Also, it turns out his mom tricked him into watching the niece and nephew because she thought he needed to loosen up or something? I turned it off before I found out if the girl made the Philharmonic without getting the hiccups.

How am I not in charge of programming for this network?!

Despite all of this, I truly can’t believe Thanksgiving is a mere two weeks away. Now that I have a job that allows me to be off for the holiday, I have grown to really appreciate it. Even last year when it was just my parents and me alone at the table with our delicious meal. This year, if all goes according to plan, we will all be together. It will likely be loud and kind of crazy. And I will do the crescent rolls.

Anywho, I think I’ll end with this reminder as we hit mid-week (I like the whole paragraph):

“I have learned in whatever situation I am to be content. I know how to be brought low, and I know how to abound. In any circumstance, I have learned the secret of facing plenty and hunger, abundance and need. I can do all things through him who gives me strength.”

–Phillipians 4:11-13

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November 9, 2021

Grace abounding

by chuckofish

Well, we are experiencing some beautiful fall weather and I am grateful. The weekend was beautiful.

On Saturday I gave a talk on the history of the Santa Fe Trail to a group of DAR ladies. Daughter #1 accompanied me and provided tech support, because as I’ve learned in my years in academia, one always needs tech support (plus multiple back-ups, several PowerPoint versions of your talk, dongles, thumb drives etc. etc. etc.)

Everything went smoothly and I guess the ladies enjoyed it. I was pinch-hitting for someone in Kansas City in the Missouri River Outfitters chapter of the Santa Fe Trail Association of which I am a member–obviously I’m the only chapter member who lives in St. Louis!

This experience did motivate me to look into the National Society of the Daughters of the American Revolution. My maternal grandmother was a pillar of the DAR and now that I am retired, it might be something I could get interested in. It was the DAR, after all, who originally took on the important task of preserving the Santa Fe Trail and placing markers along the way, thus saving the trail from literally blowing away in the wind. The DAR in Kansas began the monumental task of marking the Trail in Kansas in 1902.  Soon chapters of the DAR in Missouri, Colorado, and New Mexico followed suit and marked the Trail in their respective states. Pink granite markers were placed where one could see the original ruts or swales, or where traders still living indicated the location of the route. Four Madonna of the Trail statues honor the women who traveled the trail. Just another example of private citizens (and women at that) organizing a project, raising money and seeing it through to completion.

We are hoping to make the trek soon to Franklin, Missouri, the original site of the beginning of the trail…

…that is, before Franklin was washed away by a flood in 1827. Then the trailhead moved west to Westport Landing.

We got up early on Sunday and made a Tater Tot breakfast casserole before going to church to meet the boy and the wee babes for the 6th week in a row! They are really enjoying Sunday School. Lottie corrected my pronunciation of Naaman. (You remember him. He was the commander of the Syrian army who was healed of his leprosy by Elijah.) After brunch, daughter #1 headed back to JC and the twins went home to wreck havoc there.

We did get to FaceTime with our precious Katiebelle who is also (obviously) brilliant:

It was a nice quiet weekend.

Now as the week progresses, remember what the @madcapcottage boys say: “Be optimistic. Be happy. Don’t live with fear. Act like a kid. Create new chapters. Ditch the pessimists in your life. And always wear bunny ears whenever the opportunity arises.” Hear, hear!

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November 8, 2021

Well done, good and faithful servant

by chuckofish

I received some news on Friday that made me very sad. My old and dear friend “WWII Guy” died last week in Georgia. I was not expecting it and the news came as a surprise. We had emailed back and forth in September when the debacle in Afghanistan was going on and I helped him tone down a letter to the editor he had written. The paper eventually published it and he was very pleased.

WWII Guy grew up in Edina, MN. He was a kid during WWII but his young uncle, whom he idolized, served. He was the president of his senior class and went to Cornell and then law school. He was a Big Time lawyer in San Francisco and Chicago, before moving to St. Louis to semi-retire.

He had a lifelong passion for the history of WWII and for flying, and during the 10 years I knew him as a student and facilitator at my flyover institute, he led over 20 classes on the war, a continuing saga covering every battle and engagement fought. His WWII classes were very popular.

He was one of my “captains,” someone I could always count on to step up when needed. When he moved to Georgia, he left a big hole at my institute. He started reading this blog as a way to stay in touch and he would often comment as “WWII Guy.” He continued to send me a cake every year on my birthday…

… and to take pictures of Mike Matheny for me when he went to Cardinals’ spring training games every spring. At first he would come to visit and he’d take me out to lunch and we would gab away for hours.

But he grew old, this knight so bold, and o’er his heart a shadow, fell as he found…that growing old was really hard. For this former marathon runner, who would drop everything and drive his uncle across country if he needed company, it was indeed hard. He managed to go to his 65th high school reunion in Edina in June this year but it was very hard physically. It was, he told me, a very emotional experience for him, and he was glad he did it. But that was the beginning of the end for WWII Guy.

I like to think of him at the pearly gates, met by Ernie Pyle and Jimmy Stewart (of whom people always told him he reminded them) and maybe James Howell Howard. Into paradise may the angels lead thee, WWII Guy, and at thy coming may the martyrs receive thee, and bring thee into the holy city Jerusalem.

Let us drink a toast (or two) to WWII Guy and maybe watch The Dawn Patrol (1938) which we both loved…

Comfort us in our sorrows at the death of our brother; let our faith be our consolation, and eternal life our hope. Amen.

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November 5, 2021

November, dark and quiet

by chuckofish

Another busy but forgettable week has come and gone. On Wednesday snow briefly turned the ground white.

Two hours later the sun came out and the snow melted, but it was pretty while it lasted. Then yesterday we celebrated the DH’s birthday with a dinner he cooked (our favorite beef curry), store bought cake and a few presents. We had a lovely, quiet evening.

Okay, I am obviously struggling to find meaningful, upbeat content. It was the kind of week (nowadays they all seem to be) that left me “gelatinous with fatigue” — to borrow a phrase from George Orwell – and lacking motivation. This appropriately wintry poem by John Clare called “The Shepard’s Calendar: November” captures the feeling pretty well.

The landscape sleeps in mist from morn till noon;
And, if the sun looks through, ’tis with a face
Beamless and pale and round, as if the moon,
When done the journey of her nightly race,
Had found him sleeping, and supplied his place.
For days the shepherds in the fields may be,
Nor mark a patch of sky – blindfold they trace,
The plains, that seem without a bush or tree,
Whistling aloud by guess, to flocks they cannot see …

Here’s hoping I find inspiration before next Friday! Have a good weekend and don’t let the turkeys get you down.

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November 4, 2021

And like a thunderbolt he falls

by chuckofish

Well, here we are in November and the end of the year approaches. Yikes. Thanksgiving is in three weeks! Advent starts on November 28!

However, Advent is not a Presbyterian tradition, and our senior pastor reminded us last Sunday that the Semper Reformanda (always Reforming) does not mean that we’re always adding to the Reformation, or modifying it to fit the world’s trends. No, it means the exact opposite, a return to Reformed confessional standards. So I don’t think Advent will be a thing at our new church.

I am okay with that. Advent has gone commercial anyway–anything to make a buck.

I agree with Anne as usual.

Happy November movie viewing on TCM–check out Laura’s detailed rundown of what’s showing. Sydney Greenstreet is the Star of the Month. I watched The Maltese Falcon (1941) last night for the first time in a very long time, and Sydney was truly one-of-a-kind. They knew about character actors back in the day.

I was happy to see the Atlanta Braves win the World’s Series, although I have pretty much opted out of MLB. But it did my heart good to hear shortstop Dansby Swanson give the glory to God: “God’s always got a plan and having faith in that plan will never fail you.” Amen.

Are we living in the last days? (You know you’ve asked yourself that question.) Here’s the answer:

But don’t allow yourself to get down in the dumps. Here is my favorite three-year old poetry aficionado reciting The Eagle: A Fragment by Aldred, Lord Tennyson. He makes me smile every time!

He clasps the crag with crooked hands;

Close to the sun in lonely lands,

Ring’d with the azure world, he stands.

The wrinkled sea beneath him crawls;

He watches from his mountain walls,

And like a thunderbolt he falls.

Wish me luck on Saturday when I am giving a talk on the Santa Fe Trail to a group of DAR ladies here in town. You can bet I will work in a way to mention ol’ John Simpson Hough. It should be fun, right?

4 Comments
November 3, 2021

My life is a regular thrill ride.

by chuckofish

I was walking to the dry cleaners after work today (if it’s only a few blocks away, why give up your parking spot, even if means carrying your pants on a hanger down the sidewalk), when I saw something move in the area behind my apartment building. I was surprised to see this giant rodent standing perfectly still. He stayed like this long enough for me to get my phone out and furiously text a picture to my family. I was so confused because it looks like a beaver but the tail is all wrong. DUH, my nice family replied, telling me it is obviously a woodchuck.

Does anyone else forget that woodchucks are real because growing up this was the only woodchuck you were acquainted with?

I was a little bummed that I didn’t see him stand up on his hind legs. We both just kind of stood very still until I moved first and he disappeared.

Anywho, there’s something about seeing wildlife that is bigger than a squirrel that always gives me a bit of a start. But on the other hand, at least I met one of my neighbors. LOL.

In other news, we’ve entered the sewing deadline part of the year where I have a list of things I need to make and finish before the holidays. Thus, I spend my weekends (when I’m not in St. Louis gallivanting around) working on projects I can’t share. But let me tell you, there are some cute things in the works.

I just love Liz Climo cartoons.

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November 2, 2021

We are family*

by chuckofish

Last September when we were bouncing around southeast Colorado, we visited the John W. Rawlings Heritage Center in Las Animas. A helpful staff person there told me that they had a few volunteers who would do research for me, since their Heritage Library is not open to the public on a regular basis. I filled out a form asking for information concerning my Hough and Prowers ancestors. After some phone message tag and an email, I was getting ready to check back with them when, low and behold, yesterday I received a little packet of photocopies in the mail.

“Bing-pot!”**

Included were photocopies of several photos donated to the museum by one of the daughters of John W. Prowers, including this portrait of our great-great grandmother Mary Prowers Hough at a younger age than previously we have seen with the notation “Aunt Mimie Hough”.

There is a new portrait of Anna Hough, daughter of Mary and John Hough, our great-grandmother (on the left)…

…and of the elusive Susie V. Hough, sister of Anna.

This is thrilling!

There is also a picture of Frank Baron Hough, John and Mary’s son, as a boy…

Here is a new-to-me picture of John S. Hough at an older age…

…and at a very old age in Lake City, Colorado with his son Frank and a young neighbor (Ward Crane) circa August, 1919. “The last picture Dad had made.” (He died on November 28, 2019.) Note he is wearing the Kit Carson coat.

Along with another portrait of Mary Hough which I already have is the notation: “Mrs. Mary Hough, a well beloved Christian whose untiring efforts matched by faith which never wavered, gave to this community its early Baptist Church. In early 1874 a group of seven Baptists, led by Mrs. Mary Hough, associated themselves together for the purpose of organizing a Baptist Church. The first church building was erected that year.” It was the first church in Bent County. Indeed, Mary was what they now call a church “planter”–someone who organized a community of believers wherever she chanced to be. She helped to do this in Las Animas, Lake City and Trinidad, Colorado. She usually ran the Sunday School.

This makes sense since Mary grew up in the wild and wooly Westport Landing, which became Kansas City. Westport, you will recall, was founded by John Calvin McCoy, the missionary who came to help resettle the Eastern tribes that were beginning their migration to the Plains States. He plotted most of the original streets and settlements of the city. His brother-in-law, Johnston Lykins, was the first duly-elected mayor of Kansas City who, along with his wife, Mattie, pulled together the founders of First Baptist Church on April 21,1855. Before this, these pioneers would have met in private homes. Lykins is the minister who married our great-great-great grandmother Susanna Matney Prowers and her second husband Louis Vogel in 1840. They would have been members of this group.

Well, we keep digging away and sometimes our digging yields dividends!

*Sister Sledge

**Bing-pot = bingo and jackpot combined, coined by Jake Peralta

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November 1, 2021

“Talk about your childhood wishes/You can even eat the dishes”*

by chuckofish

I have been thinking about Halloween and how back in the day, the getting of candy was really the big deal. No one had candy at home. Candy was something we got on special occasions and on Saturday mornings when we went to Spicer’s and spent a nickel on penny candy. Five pieces, which we picked out carefully, in a little brown bag. So a holiday like Halloween was about candy and the hoarding of it thereafter. Our mother made some pretty great costumes early on, but later, when we got older, costumes were secondary and frequently were thrown together at the last minute. It was the free candy that we wanted. Those mini candy bars were a seasonal treat and not available at other times of the year like they are now.

I remember when I was in kindergarten or first grade and I was going over to my best friend Trudy Glick’s house to Trick-or-Treat. She lived in a mansion on a street with other very large houses spaced far apart from each other. My older brother felt sorry for me because obviously we wouldn’t be going to very many houses. Anticipating quite a haul in our own neighborhood, he uncharacteristically and magnanimously actually said he would share his candy with me. Imagine our surprise when the denizens of Dromara Lane gave out full sized candy bars and I came home with a heaping bag of goodies. No apples or cookies or raisins. Lesson learned. (I have no memory of sharing with him, but maybe I did.)

Later, in college, Halloween was an excuse to wear makeup and to try to look sultry…

Now we just turn off the lights and ignore anyone who comes to the door.

Over the weekend we watched our share of “scary” movies: Signs (2002), Night Creatures (1962)–recommended by Paul Zahl–and The Scarecrow of Romney Marsh (1964). Both Night Creatures and The Scarecrow are based on a book by Russell Thorndike, Dr. Syn. I have to admit, I prefer the Disney version. Those historical movies from the early sixties, filmed in England and sometimes starring Patrick McGoohan, were very good. The Scarecrow of Romney Marsh really holds up. And who doesn’t love a story about an Anglican vicar who has a side hustle as a smuggler so he can steal from the government to help the poor…and, of course, the title song?

We all went to church on Sunday. As a special Reformation Day treat, the men’s ensemble (a sextet) sang “A Mighty Fortress is Our God” at the beginning of the service. At the conclusion the wee laddie turned to me and whispered, “That song was awesome!” and he applauded. Luckily, he was not the only one so moved. We had brunch together at home afterwards, which I hope will be our new Sunday routine.

I served Episcopal Souffle, but I may have to change the name now. Calvinist souffle?

We did not get to see the wee twins in their Halloween costumes, but we saw a lot of pictures.

Lottie was a mermaid (striped shirt optional) and the bud was Kion from the Lion King.

Daughter #3 whipped up the costumes as requested. Very wunderbar.

Meanwhile baby Katie sat out Halloween…

…and looked adorable doing so.

Today is All Saints’ Day, at least in the Anglican world. But it is still a good reminder to pause and think about all those saints who have influenced our lives.

On All Saints’ Day, it is not just the saints of the church that we should remember in our prayers, but all the foolish ones and wise ones, the shy ones and overbearing ones, the broken ones and whole ones, the despots and tosspots and crackpots of our lives who, one way or another, have been our particular fathers and mothers and saints, and whom we loved without knowing we loved them and by whom we were helped to whatever little we may have, or ever hope to have, of some kind of seedy sainthood of our own. 

Frederick Buechner, The Sacred Journey

Have a great week!

*Willy Wonka

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