This is a beautiful time of year in flyover country. Everything is popping, the bugs are not omnipresent and the humidity has not set in yet. The grass is so green and plush!
But look what we have had across the street for going on three weeks!
I feel like we have an Imperial Walker parked in front of our house! It is quite alarming. And good grief this street “improvement” has been going on since before Christmas!
The view out my office window:
Lovely.
But we count it all joy, friends, don’t we? Well, we try to.
I thought that this was a good piece on the Christian response to cultural catastrophe.
The OM and I made it Mahomet and back again–an easy peasy drive across the Illinois prairie.
We had absolutely fabulous weather–beautiful blue skies and not too windy.
We celebrated a couple of birthdays and walked around the neighborhood. We drove through the lovely Lake of the Woods Forest Preserve along the corridor of the Sangamon River, which is practically next door to daughter #1’s house. I am looking forward to visiting the Museum of the Grand Prairie on a future visit. We had dinner in Champaign, but mostly we did a lot of sitting outside, soaking up and frolicking in the sun.
Say cheese! Photogenic ladies
Unfortunately the boy was not around to take wonderful blog photos, so this is the best I can do. I didn’t even get a picture of the birthday girl. C’est la vie.
We had a wonderful time, but you know I’m always happy to cross the river and see the Arch and come home.
I watched the Masters Sunday afternoon. Scottie won! (And Ida got a popsicle!)
And here’s this to start your week off right:
My Shepherd will supply my need: Jehovah is His Name; In pastures fresh He makes me feed, Beside the living stream. He brings my wandering spirit back When I forsake His ways, And leads me, for His mercy’s sake, In paths of truth and grace.
When I walk through the shades of death His presence is my stay; One word of His supporting grace Drives all my fears away. His hand, in sight of all my foes, Doth still my table spread; My cup with blessings overflows, His oil anoints my head.
The sure provisions of my God Attend me all my days; O may Thy house be my abode, And all my work be praise. There would I find a settled rest, While others go and come; No more a stranger, nor a guest, But like a child at home.
Tomorrow the OM and I are heading over to Illinois to visit daughter #2 and celebrate her birthday on Sunday.
In the meantime I have a lot to do. The boy is coming over tonight to help load up the car with stuff to take for her new house. Thankfully she is an appreciative recipient and welcomes all the odds and ends I can shove her way.
It goes without saying that I think she is a wonderful daughter, wife, sister, and mother and that we all love her.
But I will say it anyway. We love you, Susiebelle! Happy birthday!
Watch over thy child, O Lord, as her days increase; bless and guide her wherever she may be. Strengthen her when she stands; comfort her when discouraged or sorrowful; raiseher up if she fall; and in her heart may thy peace which passeth understanding abide all the days of her life; through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen.
This has turned into a busier week than usual. I am actually making to-do lists!
I am finishing up an article for the Kirkwood Historical Review about the renovation of Mudd’s Grove, the 165-year old home which the Historical Society bought in 1992 and made their headquarters. The house had been allowed to fall into wrack and ruin and was in really terrible shape when it was rescued.
It is sad when this happens and I am sympathetic to the poor soul who lived there and for years pretended to be “working” on the house. Ultimately it took hundreds of thousands of dollars and hundreds of volunteer hours to accomplish its renovation.
It is the showplace of our town now and a testament to what volunteers can do.
In my humble opinion, people would do well to give more money to historic preservation and less to already massively-endowed schools and universities that no longer teach much worth learning anyway. Maintaining historic homes and buildings is an ongoing endeavor–money is always needed–and the local, state and federal governments don’t do much to support this kind of thing.
Well, I’ll get off my soapbox.
Speaking of history, a lot of interesting things happened on April 10, among them: Archduke Maximilian of Hapsburg was proclaimed emperor of Mexico in 1864, Confederate General Robert E. Lee addressed his troops for the last time in 1865 following his surrender to General Grant the day before, the Titanic set sail in 1912, The Great Gatsby was published in 1925, and in 1939 the A.A. “Big Book” was published. In 1970 Paul McCartney announced he was leaving the Beatles.
We also remember Michael Curtiz, the great Hungarian director, who died on this day in 1962. He came to Hollywood in 1926, when he was 39 years old. He had already directed 64 films in Europe, and soon helped Warner Bros. become the fastest-growing movie studio. He directed 102 films during his Hollywood career, mostly at Warners, where he directed ten actors to Oscar nominations. He himself was nominated five times, and won twice, once for Best Short Subject for Sons of Liberty (1939) and once for Best Director for Casablanca (1942). The secret to his success was his amazing versatility–he could handle any film genre: melodrama, comedy, love story, western, film noir, musical, war story, or historical epic. He cared about the human-interest aspect of every story, stating that the “human and fundamental problems of real people” were the basis of all good drama.
A look at the list of movies he directed shows his range and his amazing success. I’m thinking something with Errol Flynn might be in order tonight.
So for weeks flyover country has been quite sidetracked with all the eclipse hype. People traveled from all over the country to places like Farmington and Cape Girardeau just to get a view.
If you waited til Monday to head to the direct path, you were out of luck, because I-55 was a parking lot basically. I sat on my patio, content to experience the 99% view. The OM had bought a large supply of the special glasses (why buy one, when you can buy dozens?) so I was prepared.
The bumble bees were intense, but I hung in there.
The birds seemed very confused–is that an eclipse thing? As John Quincy Adams noted after the June 1806 eclipse: “The cattle, and poultry discovered the symptoms of Night, and followed their usual habits on its approach—the swallows appeared surprised and flew with that wild irregularity, which is described as betokening the approach of an Earthquake.” Yes, it was like that.
We had fun texting on the family thread…
…but it wasn’t terribly exciting. It seemed like dusk and it made me think of Happy Hour, but it was only 2 o’clock, so I restrained myself and went back to work.
“The sun will be turned into darkness And the moon into blood Before the great and awesome day of the Lord comes.”
How was your weekend? Mine was a quiet one, mostly spent hanging out at home. Although it was chilly, we could sit out on the patio and soak up some vitamin D on Saturday.
I went to a few estate sales and picked up two books.
I am reading the Keegan now and really enjoying it. I am no scholar, but I find it accessible and readable. And I love reading about all those guys, especially my heroes: Grant and Sherman.
There is much to be learned from them.
Church was held outside on Sunday morning and luckily it was not raining, although it was chilly, overcast and windy. I dressed appropriately and I enjoyed it. We started a new sermon series on Paul’s letter to Titus, having finished the gospel of Mark, and our new young (29 years old) lead pastor gave a good sermon. He does not cut and paste from the internet, but gives a good exegesis of the text, in this case Titus 1:1-4. Stonewall Jackson would have approved–it was all about the doctrine of election.
Meanwhile Anne “enjoyed the astonishing delight of getting to see my name in Not the Bee underneath the Andrew Walker tweet that went viral.” Take heart, not all the news is terrible. As the Bee says:
We’re here, and we’re fine.
Growing up Baptist and going to VBS didn’t hurt anyone.
There’s no book because this is how normal, well-adjusted, salt-of-the-earth Christian men and women are raised. Nothing is extraordinary about this story. And that’s the point – God uses the weak and mundane and insignificant things in the world’s eyes to shame the things that the world considers #StunningAndBrave.
Amen, brother.
The young bud played in his first lacrosse game and was, by all accounts, a scrappy competitor.
*And here’s a blast from the past which has new meaning for us since Decatur is just up the road now from daughter # 2 et famille.
I am told it is Katie’s favorite song right now and she always sings along to the line, “Sangamon river it overflowed.”
Well, as my mother mentioned, today was Opening Day for baseball season in St. Louis. Which for those of us dum dums who work downtown meant listening to a live band play on Kiener Plaza for like four straight hours while approximately 200 people meandered around doing who knows what. It was a stressful day at work full of meetings and the stress was only heightened by the sound of a distant rock band.
But props to the Cardinals for beating the 0-8 Marlins in the home opener. You go, Glen Coco.
Anyway, I don’t have much today–it’s the beginning of busy season at work and as the world continues falling apart, my anxious nature is only heightened.
And a cutie pie picture of Mr. Smith for good measure.
This is the day that the Lord has made; let us rejoice and be glad in it!
Baseball season has commenced and the home team is off to a ho hum start. Not that I really care, but caring about baseball is definitely a thing in our flyover city. Anyway, it is a good excuse to watch Major League (1989), a silly movie that I love.
As games go, baseball is the greatest. This is a thoughtful piece about just that. “Unlike other sports, baseball celebrates the human being over the ball, for in baseball, runs are never tallied by the location of the ball but only when the baserunner makes it home. Scoring does not come through conquest but at the end of a long treacherous journey back home.”
Love of baseball was something that my grandfather and I had in common. As a child, I would write him letters about the Cardinal exploits during the long, boring summers. He was a diehard Red Sox fan and, at the time (the sixties), I was a diehard Cardinal fan. Bunker had played ball growing up and he was on the University of Vermont team. He must have been pretty good as he was traveling with the team as a freshman.
He dropped out of college after his freshman year to scout out his prospects in different branches of the military during WWI. The war ended before he could sign up and he never returned to college. School and Bunker never clicked. As you recall, he was asked to leave several prep schools. I’m not sure he ever actually graduated from high school, but he made it to college anyway and got to play ball while he was there. He was a team player, a Scotsman and, therefore I suppose, clannish. Throughout his life he belonged to a veriety of men’s clubs–the Masons, the North Chester Club, various fishing groups.
Bunker is 2nd from the left.
And he continued to play competitive sports.
Well, I digress. One thought leads to another. And that reminds me, today is our pater’s birthday (1922). He and Bunker got along fine and respected each other although they were very different. They agreed about the basics and shared a gracious manner.
Rejoice in the day. Take a few moments to remember those who came before you.
“In my soul the afternoon grows wider and I reflect.”
My cousin Steve recently sent me a box of treasures–old newspaper clippings and photographs of our maternal grandparents. Among them were some pictures of their house and yard, which I remember fondly. They had a fish pond.
This made me think of the fish pond we had in the backyard of our house growing up. The yard had been professionally landscaped back in the 1920s or 30s, but by the 1960s when we moved in, it had seen better days. My mother discovered the pond, which had been filled in, and excavated it, bringing it back to life. It even had a working waterfall, but the unfiltered water killed the fish, so we never turned it on. I could not find a picture of the pond in my archive–only this artsy one of my reflection in it which graced my senior yearbook page. (Ye gods!)
My mother loved to sit in the sunroom and look out at the backyard and the fish pond. Sometimes a neighbor’s cat would come by and sit by the edge of the pond gazing down at the fish. If he got too close, she would bang on the window.
“Sometimes, in a summer morning, having taken my accustomed bath, I sat in my sunny doorway from sunrise till noon, rapt in a revery, amidst the pines and hickories and sumachs, in undisturbed solitude and stillness, while the birds sing around or flitted noiseless through the house, until by the sun falling in at my west window, or the noise of some traveller’s wagon on the distant highway, I was reminded of the lapse of time. I grew in those seasons like corn in the night, and they were far better than any work of the hands would have been. They were not time subtracted from my life, but so much over and above my usual allowance. I realized what the Orientals mean by contemplation and the forsaking of works. For the most part, I minded not how the hours went. The day advanced as if to light some work of mine; it was morning, and lo, now it is evening, and nothing memorable is accomplished.”
–Henry David Thoreau, Walden
You may have noted that daughter #2 has a fish pond in the backyard of her house.
Three generations of fish ponds! Interesting.
Look out the window. Have a contemplative day. Don’t feel guilty about it.
It’s April again! Woowee, I can hardly believe it. It came in like a lion–stormy!
I spent yesterday getting the house back in semi-order after our busy and fun-filled weekend. Laundry, dishes, toys.
Just the usual.
I had DVR’d Godspell (1973) when it was on TCM on Easter and I watched about 20 minutes of it. It is of an era, for sure, but it is pretty unwatchable I’m afraid.
Is that Grant’s Tomb?
I remember in high school the choir from another school came and sang selections of it in chapel and I thought hearing the words to old Anglican hymns sung to sultry tunes was pretty cool. (Turn back, oh man! Forswear thy foolish ways!) The whole thing is really kind of high school quality though. Seriously I wish they had done it at KHS–the boy would have been great in it! I loved the cast album and listened to it a lot in college, but I don’t think I ever saw the whole play performed. Day By Day was a big hit. I had forgotten that DC Talk covered it in 1995.
Now you gotta love that.
It is also interesting to note that in the movie, which takes place in Manhattan, the city looks terrible–dirty, run-down. Central Park is a mess. Thankfully the park was renovated in the following decades. We are so used to seeing NYC photographed to look good, but not so in this movie. The production values are generally very low.
As is often the case, things you thought were great as a teenager do not hit you the same way years later. Thank goodness, right?
And I really liked this about a man who died in the pulpit.
dual personalities 