dual personalities

Category: Quotes

A child of God

by chuckofish

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There is no promise that everything will be rosy. The first thing is not to play savior of the world but to keep living in the world as a child of God. I see all these things happening, but I do not allow them to seduce me into the darkness. I live in the world but belong to God. If you live a life of watching and waiting, you will know what kind of call you have. You are not called to solve every problem in the world.

–Henri Nouwen

The woodcut is “Light Through the Trees” by Hajime Namiki

“Forgiveness is one of the first things”

by chuckofish

This struck me as pertinent today. What do you think?

…[W]ho talks about forgiveness these days, other than the people who come to this place, or to places like this? What politician, what public person, do we hear standing up and saying that we must forgive? The message we are likely to hear is one of blame, of how this person or that person must be held to account for something bad that has happened. It is a message of retribution–that is all it is–a message of pure retribution, sometimes dressed up in concern about victims and public safety and matters of that sort. But if you do not forgive, and you think all the time about getting even, or punishing somebody who has done you a wrong, what are you achieving? You are not going to make that person better by hating or punishing him; oh no, that will not happen…

My brothers and sisters: do not be afraid to profess forgiveness. Do not be afraid to tell people who urge you to seek retribution or revenge that there is no place for any of that in your heart. Do not be embarrassed to say that you believe in love, and that you believe that water can wash away the sins of the world, and that you are prepared to put this message of forgiveness right at the heart of the world. My brothers and sisters, do not be afraid to say any of this, even if people laugh at you, or say that you are old-fashioned, or foolish, or that you believe things that cannot be believed. Do not worry about any of that–because love and forgiveness are more powerful than any of those cynical, mocking words and will always be so. Always.

–The Anglican bishop of Botswana in Precious and Grace by Alexander McCall Smith

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The (real-life) Anglican Holy Cross Cathedral in Gaborone, Botswana

“Windage and elevation, Mrs. Langdon; windage and elevation.”*

by chuckofish

Quelle lovely, quiet weekend! I had no plans so I caught up on my house/yard work, read a lot and watched several movies. Our wonderful weather continued and I spent a lot of time in my Florida room, which is usually off-limits in August because of our flyover heat.

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Meanwhile, daughter #2 celebrated the Rocky Mountain wedding of her oldest bff in Denver.

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Three of those gals are now old married ladies–hard to believe!

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Since I am in-between Longmire books (and waiting for #12 from the library) I read Fair Land, Fair Land by A.B. Guthrie, Jr. This is the third and final book in his trilogy of historical fiction on the discovery and settling of the American West. Written when he was in his eighties and published in 1982, Mr. Guthrie had rounded out a life’s work that began in 1946 with the highly acclaimed The Big Sky. In this book he resolves the fates of two of his most famous protagonists, Boone Caudill and Dick Summers. (As you know, Dick Summers is one of my favorite characters in fiction.)  Although not as strong and polished in my opinion as The Big Sky and The Way West, I enjoyed the book until the end, which was needlessly abrupt. I get it that Guthrie was “mourning the passing of the West into the destructive hands of the white man.” He made his point–and it is a good one. I just wish he had tied up a few loose ends. And did Dick have to meet so meaningless an end? No, he emphatically did not.

I then started Precious and Grace, the next in the No. 1 Ladies Detective Agency series. Funnily enough, it also has a main character who, like Dick Summers, is frequently looking back to better days.

She was remembering what Gabarone had been like in those days of greater intimacy. She thought of it as the quiet time; the time of cattle; the time of bicycles rather than cars; the time when the arrival of the day’s single plane was an event; the time of politeness and courtesy.

Sigh. Aren’t we all?

I watched several good movies including The Undefeated (1969) starring John Wayne and Rock Hudson and a score of fine supporting actors. This is the movie that Hudson always claimed saved his foundering career. He was eternally grateful to John Wayne.

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I remember seeing this movie when it came out, but I had not seen it in a long time and it was immensely enjoyable. The script by James Lee Barrett is darn good and there is a lot of action and smart repartee between the two stars. Hudson was 44 years old and way to young to be put out to film pasture.

I also watched two movies I had dvr’d starring Simone Signoret: The Deadly Affair (1966), a John Le Carre spy thriller, and the star-filled Ship of Fools (1965). I enjoyed them both.

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I had never seen The Deadly Affair, which stars James Mason in the George Smiley part and Maximilian Schell as–big surprise–the communist agent. It is a dreary British movie, typical of the mid-1960s realism school full of “shocking” characters like Mason’s nymphomaniac wife. But it is well done and I enjoyed it, mostly because I could imagine my parents going to see it at the movies and enjoying it. They loved those “sophisticated” cold war films.

I had seen Ship of Fools and read Katherine Anne Porter’s book, which was a bestseller in its day.

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I always found Oskar Werner very appealing in this movie even as an adolescent–so sad and sensitive. Lee Marvin is pretty hilarious as the American ballplayer, and Vivien Leigh in her final film is spot-on perfect.  There is a lot of “acting” going on in this movie, and the message is pretty heavy-handed, but Ms. Leigh is terrific and worth watching the film for.

The wee babes came over for dinner on Sunday night with their parents. I gave Lottiebelle her first cherry accessory from the Women’s Exchange.

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How cute are they/is she?

Now it is back to the salt mine. Have a great week!

*Col. John Henry Thomas in The Undefeated.

 

 

The thing to do or Ewa-yea! my little owlet!

by chuckofish

a1b37e48335d670173b40d9cebd6d37c.jpgLast week when daughter #1 was home for a few days and we were sitting out in the Florida room on an unseasonably cool evening, we saw a huge owl swoop down and fly through our yard. He perched on the neighbor’s basketball hoop and we sat and watched him.

After awhile he swooped down again into the grass where he sat for a bit. We couldn’t see if he had caught some poor unfortunate creature. From a distance and in the near dark he looked like a big chicken on the ground. We went outside to get a closer look, but he flew off.

It was an awesome experience. I have been out several evenings since then but I haven’t seen the owl again. I have heard some hooting, but that is all. Anyway, this all reminded me of this bit from Hiawatha’s Childhood:

When he heard the owls at midnight,

Hooting, laughing in the forest,

‘What is that?” he cried in terror,

“What is that,” he said, “Nokomis?”

And the good Nokomis answered:

“That is but the owl and owlet,

Talking in their native language,

Talking, scolding at each other.

Then the little Hiawatha

Learned of every bird its language,

Learned their names and all their secrets,

How they built their nests in Summer,

Where they hid themselves in Winter,

Talked with them whene’er he met them,

Called them “Hiawatha’s Chickens.”

–Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

5b9bac467ff172215771c32147147800--n-c-nc-wyeth.jpgThis is how my mind works.

By the way, on the way home from work yesterday I had to stop my car as a doe bounded across Warson Road. Three little fawns came crashing out of the woods following their mother one after the other.  None of them stopped to look both ways.

So much nature in such a short time!

At the door on summer evenings
Sat the little Hiawatha;
Heard the whispering of the pine-trees,
Heard the lapping of the waters,
Sounds of music, words of wonder;
‘Minne-wawa!” said the pine-trees,
Mudway-aushka!” said the water.
Saw the fire-fly, Wah-wah-taysee,
Flitting through the dusk of evening,
With the twinkle of its candle
Lighting up the brakes and bushes,
And he sang the song of children,
Sang the song Nokomis taught him:
“Wah-wah-taysee, little fire-fly,
Little, flitting, white-fire insect,
Little, dancing, white-fire creature,
Light me with your little candle,
Ere upon my bed I lay me,
Ere in sleep I close my eyelids!”

The illustration from Hiawatha’s Childhood is by N.C. Wyeth.)

“Don’t call me sweetheart. Call me Batman.”*

by chuckofish

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The boy and daughter #1 c. 1990 (Check out that wreck of a blankie draped on her lap!)

One consequence of buying the vintage desk the other day was having to move our other vintage desk out of the room, emptying the drawers etc. Inside I found several old desk calendars. One from 1990 was particularly interesting as I had written down notes referring to the infant daughter #2’s progress and also cute comments her older siblings had made during the year.

The three-year-old boy–whom I had forgotten was such a spiritual child–was the star with these classic statements:

[The boy] says at lunch, pounding the table for emphasis, “God made us…with nails!”

“When I drink water God takes a bath.” (He knows God is “inside us all.”)

[Daughter #1] is washing doll clothes in the bathroom sink and [the boy] is bothering her, so she kicks him out, shouting, “I don’t want any company!” “Well,” he replies, “you have company. You have God!”

Comments pertaining to the new baby were also prevalent and reflect the siblings’ healthy self-esteem.

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On the day the baby is born I tell daughter #1 that the baby looks like her, and she says, “I knew she would.”

When the baby is six-months old I remark to the boy that she loves to look at him. He says, “Yes, she just loves my brown eyes.”

Anyway, here’s a reminder to write down those wonderful statements your children make. Chances are, you will never remember them otherwise. I sure didn’t.

*The boy, of course

Gonna stand my ground

by chuckofish

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Today we celebrate Flag Day, which commemorates the adoption of the flag of the United States. You will recall that this happened on June 14, 1777, by resolution of the 2nd Continental Congress.

Huzzah!

And I thought this was interesting from Philip Roth in The New Yorker last week:

A Newark Jew—why not? But an American Jew? A Jewish American? For my generation of native-born—whose omnipresent childhood spectacle was the U.S.A.’s shifting fortunes in a prolonged global war against totalitarian evil and who came of age and matured, as high-school and college students, during the remarkable makeover of the postwar decade and the alarming onset of the Cold War—for us no such self-limiting label could ever seem commensurate with our experience of growing up altogether consciously as Americans, with all that that means, for good and for ill. After all, one is not always in raptures over this country and its prowess at nurturing, in its own distinctive manner, unsurpassable callousness, matchless greed, small-minded sectarianism, and a gruesome infatuation with firearms. The list of the country at its most malign could go on, but my point is this: I have never conceived of myself for the length of a single sentence as an American Jewish or Jewish American writer, any more than I imagine Dreiser and Hemingway and Cheever thought of themselves while at work as American Christian or Christian American or just plain Christian writers. As a novelist, I think of myself, and have from the beginning, as a free American and—though I am hardly unaware of the general prejudice that persisted here against my kind till not that long ago—as irrefutably American, fastened throughout my life to the American moment, under the spell of the country’s past, partaking of its drama and destiny, and writing in the rich native tongue by which I am possessed.

(from an acceptance speech for the National Book Foundation’s Medal for Distinguished Contribution to American Letters, delivered on November 20, 2002)

Hear, hear.

(The song is, of course, Johnny Cash covering the classic “I Won’t Back Down” by Tom Petty.)

The outlook wasn’t brilliant for the Mudville nine that day

by chuckofish

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“This was a new recognition that perfection is admirable but a trifle inhuman, and that a stumbling kind of semi-success can be more warming. Most of all, these exultant yells for the Mets were also yells for ourselves, and came from a wry, half-understood recognition that there is more Met than Yankee in every one of us. I knew for whom that foghorn blew; it blew for me.”

–Roger Angell, The Summer Game

Yes, let’s keep this in mind.

The Cards have had a rough few weeks, but things are looking up, okay? Can we all just lighten up?

Jesus, give the weary Calm and sweet repose

by chuckofish

It’s Friday already! I had a busy week and it zoomed by (which is usually the way, right?)

Anyway, I am ready for the weekend. We have been experiencing beautiful weather all week which I have not really been able to enjoy. Sometimes I sit on the patio after work, just to get outside for awhile. Of course, it’s supposed to get hot this weekend.

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C’est la vie.

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Hopefully I’ll get to see the wee babes.

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The wee babes wearing “peanut butter and jelly” onesies that some well-meaning friend made for them…zut alors! oh, the indignity…

Meanwhile I’ll toast my BFF, who has always been my sister and Dual Personality, because I guess yesterday was National BFF Day! Where do they come up with these things?

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Well, I never need an excuse to toast my DP…or to toast!

Now the day is over,
Night is drawing nigh,
Shadows of the evening
Steal across the sky.

Now the darkness gathers,
Stars begin to peep,
Birds, and beasts and flowers
Soon will be asleep.

Jesus, give the weary
Calm and sweet repose;
With Thy tenderest blessing
May mine eyelids close.

Grant to little children
Visions bright of Thee;
Guard the sailors tossing
On the deep, blue sea.

Comfort those who suffer,
Watching late in pain;
Those who plan some evil
From their sin restrain.

Through the long night watches
May Thine angels spread
Their white wings above me,
Watching round my bed.

When the morning wakens,
Then may I arise
Pure, and fresh, and sinless
In Thy holy eyes.

Glory to the Father,
Glory to the Son,
And to Thee, blest Spirit,
While all ages run.

–Sabine Baring-Gould

 Have a good weekend!

“Top-heavy was the ship as a dinnerless student with all Aristotle in his head.”*

by chuckofish

So Bob Dylan finally made his Nobel Laureate acceptance speech, the only requirement to claim the money that comes with the prize, with several days to spare. (The deadline was June 10.)

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And of course he spent a long portion of his speech talking about Moby-Dick! Bob never disappoints.

Huzzah for Bob! And here’s some Moby-Dick for your mid-week inspiration:

“Whether to admit Hercules among us or not, concerning this I long remained dubious: for though according to the Greek mythologies, that ancient Crockett and Kit Carson–that brawny doer of rejoicing good deeds, was swallowed down and thrown up by a whale; still, whether that strictly makes a whaleman of him, that might be mooted. It nowhere appears that he ever actually harpooned his fish, unless, indeed, from the inside. Nevertheless, he may be deemed a sort of involuntary whaleman; at any rate the whale caught him, if he did not the whale. I claim him for one of our clan.”

I will also note the passing a few days ago of rock legend Gregg Allman (1947–2017) who had been sober for twenty years and was a Christian. Funnily enough, he ended up an EpiscopalianInto paradise may the angels lead you. At your coming may the martyrs receive you, and bring you into the holy city Jerusalem.

*Herman Melville, Moby-Dick

A landslide in the mind

by chuckofish

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“Perhaps there can be too much making of cups of tea, I thought, as I watched Miss Statham filling the heavy teapot. Did we really need a cup of tea? I even said as much to Miss Statham and she looked at me with a hurt, almost angry look, ‘Do we need tea? she echoed. ‘But Miss Lathbury…’ She sounded puzzled and distressed and I began to realise that my question had struck at something deep and fundamental. It was the kind of question that starts a landslide in the mind. I mumbled something about making a joke and that of course one needed tea always, at every hour of the day or night.”

–Barbara Pym, Excellent Women

Happy birthday to Barbara Pym, the English novelist, born in 1913. I am re-reading A Glass of Blessings and enjoying it very much. Just the thing to calm the mind after a short but stressful week at work. (At least until the next Walt Longmire mystery arrives in the mail.) I recommend her to you.

And this is funny.

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Have a good weekend.

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What have you got planned? Sunday is The Day of Pentecost:

Almighty God, on this day you opened the way of eternal life to every race and nation by the promised gift of your Holy Spirit: Shed abroad this gift throughout the world by the preaching of the Gospel, that it may reach to the ends of the earth; through Jesus Christ our Lord, who lives and reigns with you, in the unity of the Holy Spirit, one God, for ever and ever. Amen.

(The first painting is The Red Table (1919) by Leon de Smet (1881-1966); the second is by Mary Cassatt, Lady at the Tea Table (1883-85).)