How was your weekend? I went to my women’s retreat and church on Sunday as usual. Our weather was beautiful and everyone in my neighborhood was out and about enjoying it along with all the festive giant skeletons and piles of pumpkin in front yards. One or two pumpkins on your porch is not enough anymore–I really don’t get it.
I wound up the weekend with daughter #1 and wine time on the patio at her club…
What could be more pleasant than that? I am content.
Friyay! I will be hanging out with the PCA ladies at our annual retreat on Friday night and Saturday. Not sure what all this will entail, but I am game. Rumor has it that there will be S’mores at the fire pit on Friday night.
The boy has an in-law family wedding in outstate MO so he will be busy on twins duty. Daughter #2 will be corraling the small fry as usual. Now that Wes is mobile, he is unstoppable.
And daughter #1 will be getting ready for a work week in Wyoming!
It is October! The great slide to the end of the year begins! It will be Christmas before we know it. But let’s all take a deep breath and enjoy October. It was 92 degrees yesterday, but that’s all going to change this weekend. Cold front. Rain. You get the picture.
And here’s my favorite oft-quoted October poem from Robert Frost…
It is the last day of September. Where did it go? It is a mystery.
Anyway, today we remember the poet W.S. Merwin (1927-2019), who went to Princeton with Frederick Buechner, back in the day when that’s where Presbyterians went to college. He received many awards during his long career including the Pulitzer and the National Book Award and the Tanning Prize and was popular during the Vietnam era. When he died he lived on an off-the-grid 18-acre restored pineapple plantation in Haiku, Maui, which had been transformed from an “agricultural wasteland” to a “Noah’s Ark” for rare palm trees. He got his own Library of America collection, but I’m really not that familiar with him.
Here’s a poem:
And I found this interesting: “We boomers are in a crisis of confusion We do not know what to do. Retire? To do what? Work on? To what end?” What he says is mostly too true. But I am not confused. “Man’s chief end is to glorify God, and to enjoy him for ever.” That goes for boomers in retirement too.
Yesterday was a beautiful day, starting with a lovely sunrise. (The sky was much pinker than this iPhone photo shows.)
After my morning Bible reading and desk work, I got busy switching out my summer clothes for my fall turtlenecks and sweaters. I know I am no doubt jumping the gun, but I was in the mood. Of course, since I re-organized everything last spring, I couldn’t find anything. I made quite a mess tearing various closets apart, which I am sorry to say, I have yet to put back, but c’est dommage.
Yesterday was the anniversary of the day the great Herman Melville died in 1891 and we like to note that.
“I turn my body from the sun. What ho, Tashtego! Let me hear thy hammer. Oh! ye three unsurrendered spires of mine; thou uncracked keel; and only god-bullied hull; thou firm deck, and haughty helm, and Pole pointed prow, death glorious ship! must ye then perish, and without me? Am I cut off from the last fond pride of meanest shipwrecked captains? Oh, lonely death on lonely life! Oh, now I feel my topmost greatness lies in my topmost grief. Ho, ho! from all your furthest bounds, pour ye now in, ye bold billows of my whole foregone life, and top this one piled comber of my death! Towards thee I roll, thou all-destroying but unconquering whale; to the last I grapple with thee; from hell’s heart I stab at thee; for hate’s sake I spit my last breath at thee. Sink all coffins and all hearses to one common pool! and since neither can be mine, let me then tow to pieces, while still chasing thee, though tied to thee, thou damned whale! Thus, I give up the spear!”
Today we also note the passing of Winslow Homer in 1910. He has always been a favorite of mine since childhood.
So a toast to Herman Melville! A toast to Winslow Homer!
How was your weekend? Mine was a lovely quiet one.
I had my semi-annual cancer check-up on Friday and that appears to have gone well. Daughter #1 and I celebrated with a visit to a favorite antique store and wine time at Llewellyn’s Pub. We had sliders for dinner.
On Saturday we went to one estate sale where the prices were ridiculously high, but we still found a couple of things–Christmas shopping, you know. We also went to the huge South County antique mall, but we only made it through about 1/3 of it before I was worn out. (Call me Oldie Hawn.) It was fun though and a good mall. We’ll go back.
I watched The Producers(1967), Mel Brooks’ directorial debut, the one about a mild-mannered accountant and a con artist theater producer who scheme to get rich by fraudulently overselling shares in a stage musical designed to fail. To this end, they find a play celebrating Adolf Hitler and the Nazis and bring it to the stage. I enjoyed it a lot.
On Sunday I went to church where the assistant pastor gave a good sermon on I Corinthians 1:18-31. My adult ed class was terrific–I am learning so much! Effectual grace! It is very exciting. After church my “fold” had a luncheon at our elder’s house which was very pleasant–we got to eat outside! The sun had finally come out after a week of clouds.
And this made me laugh:
Enjoy your Monday! Watch an old movie, pet a nice (dirty) dog! Sing praises now and evermore!
This interchange with daughter #2 made us think I should do a blogpost about our favorite out of context family movie quotes that we say constantly. She then mentioned Wes’s inner monologue/”Richard, what’s happening?” line from Tommy Boy (1995).
Daughter #1 chimed in with “Oh, I fell over!” from Austin Powers (1997). Of course, this made me think of “Austin-Powering it” whenever I try to parallel park.
This led to “most of the White Christmas script”:
Then there is Mean Girls (2004): “I did not leave the Southside for this!”
And Planes, Trains and Automobiles: “That’ll buff out no problem”; “Is this a good combo or what?”; “Kindness? KINDNESS?”; “Why do I feel like I’m at summer camp?”; “HOW may I help you?”
And Pillow Talk (1959): “Ain’t these tasty?” and “Jan, you’ve been crying for 60 miles.”
And Role Models (2008): “I don’t drink juice, biotch.”
And The World of Henry Orient (1964): “There are some people in the balcony who couldn’t hear you” and “Hello? Pan Am?”
Boy, I could go on and on…These are not classic lines from great movies, but we really do say these lines all the time. We are such nerds, I know.
Do you have movie lines you use with your family/friends?
Yesterday I worked on an article about Hiram Wheeler Leffingwell, one of the founders of Kirkwood. Did you know that he was also one of the movers and shakers of St. Louis who promoted the idea of establishing a large public park–Forest Park–in the mid-19th century? Well, he was.
There was quite a bit of opposition to his proposal from land holders and taxpayers and it took five years to see the plan through. The park was half the size as initially imagined, but in 1874 Governor Silas Woodson signed three acts establishing Forest Park as well as O’Fallon Park on the north side and Carondelet Park on the south.
There is no statue of Leffingwell in the park, but in the early 1990s Forest Park Forever did create an award named after him, given annually to a person who has devoted considerable time, talent or resources to restoring and maintaining the park. I guess that’s something.
Well, he was indeed quite a fellow. After retiring from the real estate business and serving a term as a U.S. Marshall, he retired to Bradenton, Florida where he died in 1897.
I also went to my public library to return some books and while perusing the stacks I found All About Me! by Mel Brooks. I am presently reading about his happy childhood in Brooklyn during the depression. He is 100 years old now, the same age as my mother would be. I am enjoying it. I have known a lot of guys in my life like Mel, i.e. funny Jewish guys.
“A lot of people think that comedy and getting laughs and applause is making up for an unhappy childhood. Au contraire! I think it’s just the opposite. All I can say is that in my case comedy was keeping the joy of a happy childhood going strong. I definitely wanted a continuum of the love that I got from my mother, brothers, and aunts and uncles.”
So a toast tonight to Hiram Leffingwell and to Mel Brooks! L’chaim!
Annie Dillard died. She was a favorite of my youth.
“Why are we reading, if not in hope of beauty laid bare, life heightened and its deepest mystery probed? Can the writer isolate and vivify all in experience that most deeply engages our intellects and our hearts? Can the writer renew our hope for literary forms? Why are we reading if not in hope that the writer will magnify and dramatize our days, will illuminate and inspire us with wisdom, courage, and the possibility of meaningfulness, and will press upon our minds the deepest mysteries, so that we may feel again their majesty and power? What do we ever know that is higher than that power which, from time to time, seizes our lives, and reveals us startlingly to ourselves as creatures set down here bewildered? Why does death so catch us by surprise, and why love? We still and always want waking.” (The Writing Life)
But now I tend to think she is another of those women writers who became famous too soon, gathering accolades and awards, believing the praise. Eudora Welty praised Dillard in her NYT review of Pilgrim at Tinker Creek, but Welty also admitted “not (knowing) what she’s talking about” at times and that her writing “leaves something to be desired.” That something was what Welty called “straight narrative,” the clarity of “point, direction, and shape”. Indeed.
I liked her because, like Thoreau and Buechner, she told us to pay attention to God’s creation. But paying attention is not enough. You have to know who to thank and, sadly, Dillard lost her faith along the way. I could go on, but it would probably be presumptuous. I am going to re-read some of her books and see what I think 30 years later.
By the way, I re-read Hannah Coulter by Wendell Berry and it is terrific. I still highly recommend it.
Yesterday I read the last of the Psalms (150) in my Bible reading plan and I am on to Proverbs.
The fear of the Lord is the beginning of knowledge; fools despise wisdom and instruction.
My yard is looking pretty dry these days after weeks of heat alerts and despite exorbitant water bills.
However, Don’s garden still shows signs of life, both of the flora and fauna variety.
I went to my new Bible Study yesterday and to the women’s book club at church last night, which is way over my daily quota of human interactions. But I believe in pushing beyond the limits of my comfort zone occasionally.
We discussed the book Born Lucky: A Dedicated Father, A Grateful Son, and My Journey with Autism by Leland Vittert.
I read it because someone whose opinion I respect loved it. It is an amazing true story and it takes place in St. Louis, so that was interesting, but I didn’t love it. But we had a good discussion of the book and I’m glad I went.
I related to this story about Our Season with the Foxes, because I’ve also had foxes in my yard…but, alas, no trail cam.
This is a really good response to women who think they regret having children (a hot topic these days). “There aren’t that many things in this life that matter to eternity. Generally speaking, a career doesn’t, travel doesn’t, being free to eat a good lunch doesn’t, having nice furniture and a pretty house doesn’t. But motherhood does. The sacrifices we make here will echo far beyond us, and the joys of it will follow us to our deathbed and beyond.”
And here’s Wes discovering his handsome face in the doll dresser mirror.
