dual personalities

Recently, during one of our typically meandering conversations, the DH and I got to wondering whether The Man Who Shot Liberty Valance was based on a novel. We looked it up on IMDB, which attributed the original story (not the script) to Dorothy M. Johnson. It turns out that she also wrote the stories behind A Man Called Horse (1970) and The Hanging Tree (1959).

Now, everyone knows that The Man Who Shot Liberty Valance is a great film and one of director John Ford’s best, but let’s face it A Man Called Horse is mediocre to say the least (let’s be charitable). [You’ll be relieved to know that the two sequels were merely ‘based on the character in Johnson’s short story’.]

And even if it did star Gary Cooper, who has heard of The Hanging Tree?

None of this movie information told us much about Dorothy Johnson, so we dug around and discovered that she is quite a legend among Western writers. There’s even a short documentary about her life, from which I borrowed the title of this post.

In case you’re not up for watching a documentary, I’ll summarize briefly here. Born in Iowa in 1905, Dorothy and her family soon moved to Whitefish, Montana. After high school, she worked for the paper in Missoula, went to college, and did a stint as a writer in New York City before returning to Montana, where she spent the rest of her life. An early marriage ended in divorce, after which she took pride in her self-sufficiency and stayed single.

Intrigued, we ordered a couple of her books.

I haven’t started The Bloody Bozeman yet, and I’ve only read a couple of chapters from The Bedside Book of Bastards, which strikes one as a purely money-making gambit, but I did enjoy reading her collected tales. My brief assessment: The film version of the Man Who Shot Liberty Valance has much more to say than the short story, while (unsurprisingly) the story “A Man Called Horse” is better than the movie, as is the novella “The Hanging Tree”, though neither is great.

The best story in the collection is “Lost Sister” which has not been turned into a movie. It is loosely based on the case of Cynthia Ann Parker, who was stolen by the Comanches as a girl, assimilated into the tribe, and eventually married to a chief. Her eldest child was the famous Quanah Parker. As an adult of about 34 Cynthia Parker was returned to her white family, but could not adjust and died soon after. Johnson’s story is remarkably sympathetic to all the groups involved and does not take sides. Indeed, what makes Dorothy Johnson’s stories noteworthy is how authentic they seem. Her spare prose is suited to the subject matter. She seems to know how gold miners would behave, how difficult the return of a kidnapped girl (now a woman) would be for everyone involved, and what a feckless young man could learn from living among the Sioux.

Dorothy Johnson did not write great literature but she did capture something essential about life in the west. She was interested in people and did not let politics cloud her vision. Perhaps that’s why her stories have endured. By all accounts she was quite a character.

You can read her reminiscences about growing up in Montana here. This weekend, let’s raise a glass to Dorothy M. Johnson, Montana spitfire, honorary member of the Blackfoot tribe, and teller of tales.

*A guest post from DN

I was sifting through old papers recently and rediscovered a copy of the poem that I had once found in a classroom where I was teaching. Someone in a course prior to mine had left a copy of “A Question of Time” by Alicia Ostriker. The students were doing a group work exercise; I had moment to read the poem while I stood at the front of the room poised to field any questions. But suddenly every question that I had was about this poem. And as I reread it today, a poem about motherhood has even greater resonance.

I felt incredibly moved, and I couldn’t really say why. I couldn’t quite pin down the poem’s plot or situation. The language was plain, yet the jumble of speaker and subject—and the shades of grey in the different kinds of love represented—felt incredibly complex. And I didn’t have time to figure it out! Time was up. Time to lead a mind-blowing discussion about how classical rhetorical appeals can really give verve to one’s writing. To 18 year olds. Who only need this class to place into Introduction to Fluid Mechanics or whatever.

As school districts face the question of whether or not to hold in-person classes, I can’t help but lament the loss of chanciness in the classroom. You never know what will happen during an in-person discussion; you have to be open to it all. Of course we should keep our students and teachers (and their families) safe. But we should not overlook the importance of the classroom space. You never know what you’ll find.

Daughter #1 here. Thanks to The Boy for loaning us his Disney + login because we had a hankering for some classic episodes of The Simpsons. We watched:

A Star is Burns, Boy Scounts N’ the Hood, Two Bad Neighbors, Homer the Heretic, and A Streetcar Named Marge.

It is really amazing to have all of these episodes at the press of a button. We laughed, we marveled that these episodes aired, we laughed some more. Back in the day, we felt like the writers were watching our lives and putting them on TV. Now, it seems quaint that a primetime tv show could contain so many literary and film references, feature a family that goes to church, and push the envelope in so many ways, while still being immensely popular. How times change.

Anyway, while I’ve been home caring for my mother, I’ve also been getting things accomplished. I got my hair and eyebrows done for the first time in ages, I got my car tuned up, and I’ve gotten to visit with a friend who is moving to St. Louis, Today, we ventured to the Zoo which requires reservations. It was not very crowded, but it was quelle hot.

Nonetheless, we rode the train and got to see some animals up close which are usually obscured by children who always get priority on the front row [eyeroll].

I am pleased to report that my mother is well on the road to recovery and is possibly returning to regular blogging duties next week. In the meantime, enjoy this:

While our dear mom recovers, daughter #2 is back with some bonus baby content for your Tuesday morning. I thought about sharing a “What are you reading” post, but I didn’t have anything too interesting to say. DN and I are happy to sneak in a couple chapters of a novel here or there, but the bulk of my time is still (happily) focused on Katiebelle’s eating, sleeping, and playing.

The biggest news around here is that the darling young one is smiling now!

Also, she spent a whole 28 minutes on FaceTime on Monday morning, record-breaking endurance and a real show of strength in “awake time.” Mamu, daughter #1 and I have perfected our “narrating the baby’s thoughts and actions” voices and amuse ourselves immensely. How could we not, with a subject like Katiebelle?

Daughter #1 here, covering for my mother’s post. When I’m home, I like to peruse the bookshelves and see what interesting things I can find–I’m never disappointed. On Friday, I found this book:

You’ll recall that my mother wrote about Helen E. Hokinson here. I lol’d reading these cartoons and I just love these ladies. I’ve gathered a few below. Enjoy–and happy Monday!

My dear DP came through her surgery with flying colors but is taking a few days off to recover, so here I am posting on a Friday!

We’ve had a busy week full of surprise visits from workmen. First, the carpet guys called out of the blue to schedule the installation. They called back a couple of hours later to ask whether they could come right away. As a general rule, it’s best to say ‘yes’ no matter how unprepared you are. They were friendly, swift and extremely competent (although they didn’t wear masks. Hush, don’t tell). And now we have one bedroom with freshly painted walls and new carpet.

Once the pictures are up and I figure out a lamp for the bed, it will look nice, don’t you think? A new bed and coverlet would help as well (does the navy clash?).

It doesn’t look like we had to move much back in, but this is what the other bedroom looked like while this one was empty.

The DH and I had quite a job moving everything around corners and through the narrow hallway. I’m still sorting out boxes but we’re making progress.

Yesterday, right on schedule the porch painter and his helper showed up and got to work. It’s a tiny porch so it didn’t take them long. The paint color is a wildly bright blue — brighter than intended — but at least the porch looks better.

While painting and carpeting were going on, yours truly got her trusty sewing machine down from the attic to make the kitchen valance. I haven’t sewn anything since Halloween costume-making days (probably 20 years ago) and even then I wasn’t very good at it. However, I persevered and voila!

Let’s look at a close-up:

I have enough material left over to make a couple of oven mitts, but first I have to venture to the fabric store to buy the quilt batting for insulation. I figure I can sew anything that (1) isn’t very complicated and doesn’t require perfectly straight lines and (2) no one will see up-close or care about. I take inspiration from Marge…

That was my productive week in home improvement. Now if I could get some job work done I’d be in great shape!

By the way, if you’re in the mood for low-key, feel good flicks, I have two to recommend: The Mountain Minor (2019), a story about a family’s tradition of playing Appalachian music (the boy is quite the fiddle player),

and American Folk (2017), a road movie in which, according to IMDB’s description, “Two strangers, both folk musicians stranded in California, take a road trip to New York in the days after 9/11. A story about the kindness of strangers and the power of music.”

Both are available on Amazon Prime and are timely reminders of American values. I suspect the people who made these movies wanted to counteract the negativity so prevalent today. Are we really prepared to abandon our roots? That’s worth pondering…

One final thing before I go… Happy Birthday to the OM, my brother-in-law! I hope you have a pleasant, relatively uneventful day! These days, that’s about as much as we can hope for. Let’s hope the next year turns calmer!

*Lyric from “Arise! Arise!” a song in English Folk Songs in the Appalachian Mountains by Cecil J. Sharp

Before I launch into baby updates, a quick reminder to keep our mother in your thoughts today, wishing for a smooth surgery and quick recovery. I am hoping that lots of cheerful pictures of bright-eyed Katiebelle (now 6 weeks old!) will help keep morale high these next couple of weeks. It’s hard for us to be far away but we are there in spirit!

I mentioned last week that DN and I have an affinity for making up songs for our daughter. Well, I also find the funniest old love songs popping up in my mind these days. Here’s one that’s been stuck in my head, the chorus of which I often find myself cooing to the little one…

It only gets weird in this context when he says he’s “forgotten every woman but you,” but I find that the chorus works wonders on a fussy babe. There’s even a line about the love interest’s hair falling out — total newborn behavior!

Here’s another that leapt to mind, and which I’ve sung off-key to my patient daughter:

I mean I don’t have to call her, she’s lying right there on her playmat, but I do mean it from the bottom of my heart!

Finally, I also find myself frequently using my Bing Crosby voice to soothe Katiebelle. Remember in White Christmas when Betty is mad at Bob (“$200,00 in free advertising!”) and he just wants to practice singing “Counting Your Blessings”? He says, “Oh come, come now!” before she storms offstage. I say this approximately eight times a day. Does this mean I am a knight atop a charger or that Betty was acting like a baby?

In other news, DN and I recently managed to watch an entire movie from start to finish. This was a lovely way to feel like adults for an evening, but we couldn’t stop laughing about all the moments that reminded us of our daughter. And the movie was The English Patient! I mean really.

Catherine never betrayed her country for love, but she is indecisive about the status of her sleep.

This is my new mantra. As my mother said, we watched The Pajama Game this weekend. I found myself relating most to the side character played by this actress. Sadly, I couldn’t find any good images from the film to convey that joke well enough.

Today, has the potential to be a real rage post. But I’m going to resist the temptation to write the same post I always do. Also, I waited two hours and ate dinner before attempting to beginning to write.

So, from the files of videos I’ve stumbled across on YouTube, this one really made me laugh.

This weekend, at an estate sale, I got a framed print of one of my favorite Winslow Homer paintings which I promptly hung in my dining room.

This painting makes me think of Hemingway, but I dug out Moby Dick because the eternal struggle-vibe is more how life feels these days and I don’t think I have a copy of The Old Man and the Sea.

“There are certain queer times and occasions in this strange mixed affair we call life when a man takes this whole universe for a vast practical joke, though the wit thereof he but dimly deserves, and more than suspects that the joke is nobody’s expense but his own.”

–Moby Dick

“And thus, though surrounded by circle upon circle of consternations and affrights, did these inscrutable creatures at the centre freely and fearlessly indulge in all peaceful concernments; yea, serenely revelled in dalliance and delight. But even so, amid the tornadoed Atlantic of my being, do I myself still for ever centrally disport in mute calm; and while ponderous planets of unwaning woe revolve around me, deep down and deep inland there I still bathe me in eternal mildness of joy.”

–Moby Dick