dual personalities

Category: Books

“Get behind me, Satan!”*

by chuckofish

Well, it was a sunny weekend here in flyover country and there was a lot going on all over town. The OM and I opted for our local Greentree parade on Saturday, even though the wee babes were unable to join us.

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The usual suspects were around except there were no floats from any of our local churches–no rockin’ Methodists, no one. I found that troubling.

After that I visited a few of my favorite antique malls and rescued a needlepoint pillow.

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I finished reading Rules of Civility by Amor Towles, which my DP recommended so highly a few weeks ago. I recommend it as well–it was very good!

Most of us shell our days like peanuts. One in a thousand can look at the world with amazement. I don’t mean gawking at the Chrysler Building. I’m talking about the wing of a dragonfly. The tale of the shoeshine. Walking through an unsullied hour with an unsullied heart.

Next up on my reading list is Give a Man A Horse, written in 1938 by Charles J. Finger (1867–1941)  who was a prolific writer who settled in Arkansas after an early life of travel and adventure. One of his many adventure books won the Newbery Prize for children’s literature. In addition to writing and publishing a magazine from his Fayetteville farm, Finger was employed from 1936 through 1938 as an editor of the Federal Writers’ Project (FWP) guidebook, Arkansas: A Guide to the State.

Screen Shot 2018-09-16 at 1.26.06 PM.pngI can’t remember where I ran across this long-forgotten writer, but he sounds like a fascinating fellow. I bought his book and now I’m going to read it.

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The gospel lesson in church on Sunday was one of those difficult ones for preachers–especially Episcopal preachers–“Those who are ashamed of me and of my words in this adulterous and sinful generation, of them the Son of Man will also be ashamed when he comes in the glory of his Father with the holy angels”…because it describes so many of them (and us), you know? Not many want to talk about sin these days. Thank goodness there are still some Presbyterians out there who do:

Screen Shot 2018-09-16 at 2.43.27 PM.pngSorry, if I sound a little grouchy–sometimes that’s the vibe. Thankfully, we went over to see the wee babes on Sunday night. Daughter #3 made tacos. My mood lightened.

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Have a good week! Run, dvil, run!

*Mark 8:33

 

 

“For waters shall break forth in the wilderness, and streams in the desert…”*

by chuckofish

It rained most of the weekend and I stayed in and recuperated from a hectic week and the flu. Indeed, I have no pictures of semi-exciting adventures and/or adorable wee babes since they stayed home and did the same. Instead I  read the new Longmire book which arrived in the mail on Friday.IMG_3423.JPG

It did not disappoint.

I did get out of the house long enough to go to church on Sunday and it was nice to get back into the old routine. The OM and I went to Steak ‘N Shake for lunch afterwards. I picked up the house and did laundry. Since the temperature had fallen into the 70s I tried to do some yard work, but after 15 minutes I had strained my back, so I quit and retreated to Longmire.

We watched a good movie, which I found scrounging around on Amazon Prime, called Marilyn Hotchkiss’ Ballroom Dancing & Charm School (2005). Directed by Randall Miller, it stars Robert Carlyle and John Goodman and features a host of semi-has-been actors like Melissa Tomei, Mary Steenburgen, Sean Astin, Sonia Braga, Donnie Wahlberg, Ernie Hudson, etc., who were all excellent.

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I really liked it!

“Dance is a very powerful drug, if embraced judiciously; to reap its rewards, one must shoulder its challenges with intrepid countenance.” Frank Keene, a grieving baker in a near catatonic state, happens on a car accident. The loquacious and insightful victim, Steve Mills, is on his way to an appointment in Pasadena with a years-ago acquaintance; he asks Frank to go in his place. It’s a dance class. Frank goes, to find Steve’s friend. The story moves back and forth [between] Steve’s childhood, the scene of the accident, and the aftermath of Frank’s first Lindy hop. (IMDB)

It is rare these days to see a movie devoid of vulgarity, violence and political statements. It is just a good, uplifting story about real people. Give it a try–you’ll be glad you did!

*Isaiah 35:6

 

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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Come, holy Comforter

by chuckofish

…thy sacred witness bear in this glad hour:

thou, who almighty art, now rule in every heart,

and n’er from us depart,

Spirit of power

(Hymn #365)

I got a lot done at home this weekend. And you know, after such a busy week at work, it was nice to stay home and vacuum and put things away and gab on the phone. After church, I went to two estate sales (batting zero) and returned something at the mall.

We watched My Darling Clementine (1947) on Friday night

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(Henry Fonda was never better and is still the best Wyatt Earp in movies.)

and Run Silent, Run Deep (1958) on Saturday night.

Nobody says, “Dive! Dive!” better than Clark Gable.

I finished re-reading The Searchers by Alan Le May, poked around in the Memoirs of William Tecumseh Sherman, and started Glass Houses by Louise Penny.

The wee babes came over for dinner Sunday night. We hadn’t seen them in over two weeks!

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As you can see, they were both obsessed with this antique chair, and vied to sit in it all night. After two days in pre-school/daycare, they are reading fluently.

All’s well in the world.

Weekend update

by chuckofish

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I stayed close to home all weekend, catching up on a lot of things. I brought a suitcase up from the basement so I could start thinking about what to bring on a trip the OM and I are taking next week to Colorado. It is a work-related conference for him so I will have a lot of time to relax and read.

Right now I am reading Lamb in His Bosom by Caroline Miller, a mostly forgotten novel which won the Pulitzer Prize in 1934. It was a best-seller, second only to Anthony Adverse that year. I stumbled across it when reading a book of Conrad Richter’s writing journals (found in my bookcase overhaul) where he admires this book and thinks her depiction of simple country folk better and more real than his own. As you know, I am a great admirer of Conrad Richter, so I had to check it out.

The novel tells the story of Cean and Lonzo, a young couple “who begin their married lives two decades before the Civil War in a land where nature is hostile, the seasons dictate the law, and the days are punctuated by the hard work of the land.” The NY Times, reviewing it at the time, said, “It has a wonderful freshness about it; not simply the freshness of a new writer, but the freshness of a new world…. A wonderfully large and vital picture,”  and they were correct. The characters are pioneers in rural Georgia, farming for a living. They own no slaves. This novel is about as far from Gone With the Wind as you can get and I much prefer it. There is no melodrama here, but real fully-developed characters written with depth and insight. Clearly the author had one big book inside her and she wrote  it.

While I was cleaning up the house, I noticed an amusing thing.

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Something is taking over my house! I ask you, what would June Cleaver do in this situation? Well, I am trying to go with the flow.

Sunday night the wee babes came over per usual with their parents. The wee laddie is on the mend from his eye surgery…

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…and enjoyed his peanut butter and graham crackers–no tacos for him.

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Little Lottiebelle is a babbling dynamo…

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Well, we all went to bed early Sunday night in preparation for a very busy work week. We also got a call from my brother’s two adult children asking if they can stop in Thursday night on their way from California to Michigan. Sure thing. The bed ‘n breakfast is open for business. Just don’t trip over the vintage Little Tykes toys or slip on a Playskool figurine!

“There is no frigate like a book”*

by chuckofish

Since I bought the new/old bookcase last weekend at the estate sale, I have been busily moving books around upstairs after work. This is a good thing to do once in awhile as you rediscover all sorts of books that you have forgotten you have.

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I am also trying to improve the grouping of my books by subject, so at least theoretically they will be easier to find.

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Also, I am freeing up room in the bookcases in my “office” so I can rearrange/organize things in there.

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Clearly I have a ways to go. But this is fun, though tiring, work. In the evening I fall asleep watching one old movie or another and then go upstairs to read. Last night I was reading The Armada by Garrett Mattingly, and it was so exciting that when I turned out the light at 10:45 I couldn’t go to asleep!

…The prince of Condé was unhorsed and his successful opponent, after a look, no doubt, at the field, dismounted and presented his gauntlet to the discomfited prince in token of surrender. The king of Navarre, having pistoled one adversary and taken a sharp rap on the head with a lance butt from another, recognized the seigneur de Chasteau Renard, the standard bearer of the enemy troop he had smashed and, seizing his old companion round the waist, crowed joyfully, “Yield thyself, Philistine.”

In another part of the field, the duke of Joyeuse was cut off by a clump of horsemen as he tried to escape. He flung down his sword and called out, “My ransom is a hundred thousand crowns.” One of his captors put a bullet through his head. For the commander who had ordered Huguenot wounded killed on the field, who had hanged prisoners by the hundreds and butchered garrisons who had surrendered relying on the laws of honest war, there was not much chance of quarter…

I love it when the good guys win.

Well, I am a big history nerd. But escaping to the sixteenth century when things were hard indeed  is not a bad thing.

My DP, who you know is also on an organization kick, sent me a box with some old stuff of mine she found in her attic clean up (and some baby clothes for the wee laddie that belonged to his pater.) She included a college exam of mine (how drole!) so you can see my interests haven’t changed all that much…

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Zut alors!  Anyway, onward and upward. Happy Thursday!

*Emily Dickinson

Lead me, Lord, lead me…*

by chuckofish

Well, another weekend has come and gone. I was busy, checking things off my to-do list.

I rescued a needlepoint picture at an estate sale…

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…and I bought some needlework books at another estate sale (also a bag of scissors!) that I went to after church.

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On the downside, Mike Matheny got fired and the wee babes canceled on our usual Sunday dinner, when we were also planning to celebrate the OM’s birthday. C’est la vie, life goes on. I am rather devastated about old Mike. Prayers to the Skipper and his family.

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Sigh. The OM and I are saving the cake for his birthday on Tuesday.

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I started re-reading a Delano Ames mystery from 1952, Murder, Maestro Please, which features husband and wife amateur detective team, Dagobert and Jane Brown. I am enjoying it very much. Dagobert, much to Jane’s chagrin sometimes, strives to encourage her literary career writing mysteries.

This encouragement takes nightmare forms. Our neighbors become creatures with sinister pasts to investigate. Everyday events become fraught with mystery and menace. We find clues everywhere. In the midst of life we are in crime fiction.

A wonderful diversion.

Happy Monday!

*Samuel Wesley

“Where’s Papa going with that Ax?”

by chuckofish

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“But we have received a sign, Edith—a mysterious sign. A miracle has happened on this farm. There is a large spider’s web in the doorway of the barn cellar, right over the pigpen, and when Lurvy went to feed the pig this morning, he noticed the web because it was foggy, and you know how a spider’s web looks very distinct in a fog. And right spang in the middle of the web there were the words ‘Some Pig.’ The words were woven right into the web. They were actually part of the web, Edith. I know, because I have been down there and seen them. It says, ‘Some Pig,’ just as clear as clear can be. There can be no mistake about it. A miracle has happened and a sign has occurred here on earth, right on our farm, and we have no ordinary pig.”

“Well”, said Mrs. Zuckerman, “it seems to me you’re a little off. It seems to me we have no ordinary spider.”

–E.B. White, Charlotte’s Web

Today is the birthday of Elwyn Brooks White (July 11, 1899 – October 1, 1985) who was an American writer. He wrote for The New Yorker and had some success writing for children. You might recall that he won the Laura Ingalls Wilder Medal from the U.S. professional children’s librarians in 1970. Of course, they’ve changed the name of the medal now. Given time, I have no doubt they’ll find something offensive in Charlotte’s Web.

Well, it’s still one of my favorites. It may be time to dust it off and read it again.

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Wednesday round-up

by chuckofish

So did you read about the brouhaha over Laura Ingalls Wilder’s classic Little House on the Prairie series?

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A division of the American Library Association voted unanimously last week to strip Laura Ingalls Wilder’s name from a major children’s literature award over concerns about how the author referred to Native Americans and blacks. Funnily enough, I bought a hardback copy of Little House on the Prairie at an estate sale last Saturday. I started reading it on Sunday and I have to say I was impressed with the beauty and simplicity of the writing.

“In the West the land was level, and there were no trees. The grass grew thick and high. There the wild animals wandered and fed as though they were in a pasture that stretched much farther than a man could see, and there were no settlers. Only Indians lived there.”

Haven’t these PC-obsessed librarians ever heard of context?

I say, “Phooey!” to the American Library Association.

It may be time to road trip down to Mansfield, Missouri to see the “House on Rocky Ridge Farm”–where Laura Ingalls Wilder and her husband Almanzo lived and where she wrote her books.

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There is a museum there as well. Mansfield is located in the Ozarks on the south edge of the Salem Plateau. It is a 3.5 hour drive from St. Louis. Branson–which is not on my bucket list–is a little over an hour from there.

On the movie front the OM and I watched Seven Brides for Seven Brothers (1954) last week when it was on TCM and I thoroughly enjoyed it. That dance sequence at the barn-raising is superb, as is the subsequent fight-dance. It is so appropriately athletic. All that stomping!

Wow. Sure looks like fun.

Anyway, you might want to check it out.

And speaking of drama, thunder storms here lately have been quite theatrical. This was how the sky looked as I drove home yesterday.

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I was reminded of the night of June 28, 1969 when a severe storm with winds of near tornadic force struck the St. Louis riverfront. The riverboat restaurant Becky Thatcher,

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with her barge and a replica of the Santa Maria (not kidding) alongside, broke loose and drifted several miles downstream, safely clearing two bridges, before crashing into the Monsanto dock on the Illinois side. One hundred restaurant patrons were aboard at the time and all were rescued by the towboat Larrayne Andress and taken back to St. Louis, where they were safely landed at the Streckfus wharfboat. The Santa Maria, we are told, sunk like a tub.

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Quelle flyover weather drama.

Well, try to take time to smell the flowers and enjoy the week. Read something controversial–like Little House on the Prairie!

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“Puir—Bobby! Gang—awa’—hame—laddie.”

by chuckofish

Last weekend I watched the old Disney movie Greyfriars Bobby (1961).

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I had not seen it in years and years and I was quite struck by what a really terrific movie it is. It packs quite a punch. Filmed in Scotland, it really tugged at my genetic heartstrings.

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The actor who played “Auld Jock” reminded me a lot of Robin Williams, who was, after all, of Scottish derivation.

You remember the story: A wee Skye Terrier named Bobby is the pet of a Scottish farmer and his wife, but the dog loves an old shepherd hired on the farm called Auld Jock. When money grows scarce on the farm, Auld Jock is let go. He travels to Edinburgh, and Bobby follows him. Auld Jock dies in poverty in an inn and is buried in Greyfriar’s kirkyard. Bobby returns to Auld Jock’s grave every night to sleep. Two men (played by Laurence Naismith and Donald Crisp) vie for his affection, as do the street urchins of the town, but he will belong to no one but Auld Jock. In the meantime, no one has purchased a license for Bobby, and without a license and someone to take responsibility for Bobby, he may be destroyed. Bobby’s fate rests with the Lord Provost of Edinburgh. In a moving act of charity, the children of Edinburgh contribute their pennies for Bobby’s license. Bobby is declared a Freeman of the City and adopted by the populace of Edinburgh.

This is a true story and there is a statue commemorating the loyalty of the wee dog in Edinburgh. I have seen it.

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Anyway, after viewing the movie (and weeping throughout) I thought I would like to read the book on which the Disney version is based. I found my grandfather Cameron’s copy, which he had received as a gift in 1912.

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Bunker had written his name underneath and on the dedication page he had added his own notation:

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(I can’t tell you how much I love that.)

I read the book and enjoyed it. The Disney screenplay follows it very closely–a good call on their part. Interestingly, Eleanor Atkinson was from Indiana and had never been to Scotland! She must have known some natives, because the dialect is excellent. The book is still in print (a Puffin Classic).

So I heartily recommend you watch this vintage Disney movie! And here is a fun fact to know and tell. I was struck by how excellent the children in this movie are. Some you may remember from other old Disney movies, but one girl stood out to me.

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I looked on IMDB.com to see who played Ailie. It was Joan Juliet Buck, which sounded very familiar. Indeed, she grew up to be the editor of Paris Vogue (1994-2001). Greyfriars Bobby is the only movie she made as a child actress.

The world is more than we know.

“The Lord is my Shepherd; I shall not want.”

So far it was plain and comforting. “He maketh me to lie down in green pastures. He leadeth me beside the still waters.”

Nae, the pastures were brown, or purple and yellow with heather and gorse. Rocks cropped out everywhere, and the peaty tarps were mostly bleak and frozen. The broad Firth was ever ebbing and flowing with the restless sea, and the burns bickering down the glens. The minister of the little hill kirk had said once that in England the pastures were green and the lakes still and bright; but that was a fey, foreign country to which Auld Jock had no desire to go. He wondered, wistfully, if he would feel at home in God’s heaven, and if there would be room in that lush silence for a noisy little dog, as there was on the rough Pentland braes.

–From Greyfriars Bobby by Eleanor Atkinson

Have a good Wednesday!