“You must know that there is nothing higher and stronger and more wholesome and good for life in the future than some good memory, especially a memory of childhood, of home. People talk to you a great deal about your education, but some good, sacred memory, preserved from childhood, is perhaps the best education.”
― Fyodor Dostoyevsky, The Brothers Karamazov
I am home from my short, easy-breezy trip back east. I was smart this time and came home on Saturday so I had Sunday to de-compress and settle back into my world once again before heading to a jam-packed day at work on Monday. (And I also got a chance to clean up the house after the OM was alone for 4 days.)
Darling daughter #2 posted yesterday about my visit and she hit all the high points. We had a super fun time in and out of the City and in the suburban sprawl around it. We did what we love to do: estate-saled, looked at art, shopped at IKEA, went out to eat with her friends, drank wine, walked and talked.
Mmmm–diner food
But as a mother it is mostly wonderful to see where one’s beloved child lives and spends her time. Now I can picture where she is sitting when we talk on the phone. I know how she has arranged her things.
Her apartment is a block away from the picture-perfect U of Maryland sorority houses and also the Episcopal Church where my flyover friend Becky lived as a child when her father was the rector there.
I saw her office in the English Department at school.
I guess only a mother (or parent) can understand how important all of this is. I feel the same way after visiting daughter #1 in NYC–relieved that she has made a home for herself and that she has nice friends and that she has carried something of her flyover home to her new abode.
Sigh.
‘The Open Window’ by Pierre Bonnard (1867-1947), The Phillips Collection
And I have a magnet to remind me of my visit.
This week was my Spring Break. One colleague went to Hawaii; another to Europe. And of course, my dual personality is vacating in Maryland with her wonderful daughter. I worked, shoveled snow, mopped up from the leaking family room ceiling, and dreamed wistfully of Spring. I don’t mean to complain, but this is the view out my dining room window this morning.
another 3″ expected today
We haven’t seen the ground for months, let alone a green growing thing; no crocus shoots, no buds, just grey and white, ferocious wind and plunging temperatures. It’s getting old (oh, wait, I guess I am complaining). Still, a friend gave me some beautiful, red tulips
and I binge-watched one of my favorite TV shows, Wonderfalls, which struck just the right chord.
It’s equal parts quirky, laugh out loud funny, and romantic. You should see it whether or not you are experiencing an existential crisis.
In typical Chamberlin fashion I put off doing the things I least wanted to do (i.e. grading) and spent a huge amount of time on things that shouldn’t have taken as long as they did. Oh, well.
A high spot of the week was my husband’s Friday afternoon lecture for the SLU Faculty Cafe series. The event was very civilized with wine and canapes followed by Duncan’s stimulating discourse on Joshua Kirby.
Gainsborough’s portrait of Kirby
No kidding. I’m quite taken with Mr. Kirby. He was a stand-up guy among the 18th century’s rakes and ne’er-do-wells, some of whom were his friends (I’m talking about you, Mr. Gainsborough!). Kirby was a sober, devoted Church of England, middle class family man, who parlayed his natural affability and a talent for architectural drawing into a secure life among the day’s elite. And he had a really nice face. You can read all about it here.
Well, that’s about it for my week. I went no farther afield than the office, but I did get to sleep in a couple of times and I did get some reading and writing done. All in all, it’s been a pleasant spring break, but I sure am looking forward to hearing about my dual personality’s adventures, aren’t you?
I am heading to Maryland today to spend a few days with daughter # 2.
I will be off the radar for awhile. But I’ll be back soon.
God-rays on Lake Champlain
Do you ever read the blog Humans of New York? Sometimes he asks the question: “If you could give one piece of advice to a large group of people, what would it be?”
This is a difficult question to answer on the spur-of-the-moment. I would say: read this poem by e.e. cummings and remember it.
i thank You God for most this amazing
day:for the leaping greenly spirits of trees
and a blue true dream of sky; and for everything
which is natural which is infinite which is yes(i who have died am alive again today,
and this is the sun’s birthday; this is the birth
day of life and of love and wings: and of the gay
great happening illimitably earth)how should tasting touching hearing seeing
breathing any–lifted from the no
of all nothing–human merely being
doubt unimaginable You?(now the ears of my ears awake and
now the eyes of my eyes are opened)
e.e. cummings
1894-1962
*For this people’s heart has grown dull,
and with their ears they can barely hear,
and their eyes they have closed,
lest they should see with their eyes
and hear with their ears
–Matthew 13:15–17 (English Standard Version)
While organizing a whole mess of some old photos, I found this great one of my dual personality when she was on a dig in Jordan back in the 1980s. I think it was when she was getting a master’s in archaeology at Mizzou, before she went on to Yale, but if I am wrong she can set us straight. She was always much less timid than I, more like our mother. Being in the desert with a camel (and without a hairdryer) would not have fazed her much.
Anyway, I spent my weekend per usual. I went to the book sale at the Unitarian Church, braving the Prius-filled parking lot in order to search through their treasure trove of books. Their thinking may be a little to the left of whoopee, but they are good readers.
I went to three estate sales and got a few more books and then I came home and worked in the yard for awhile. It was a beautiful day–the sun was shining, the sky was blue and the daffodils were poking up.
By Sunday, the temperature had plummeted, the wind was howling and it was sleeting, but I forged on to church nevertheless. I sat with my good friend Marty. It always amuses me to remember that her son was the coolest guy in school forty years ago and wouldn’t have known me from Doris Day, but it is proof positive that all things come to those who wait, if not in a semi-skewed fashion. It is the skewed part that is the point.
God does have a sense of humor and so should we.
Write deeply upon our minds, O Lord God, the lesson of thy holy Word, that only the pure in heart can see thee. Leave us not in the bondage of any sinful inclination. May we neither deceive ourselves with the thought that we have no sin, nor acquiesce idly in aught of which our conscience accuses us. Strengthen us by thy Holy Spirit to fight the good fight of faith, and grant that no day may pass without its victory; through Jesus Christ our Lord.
–C. J. Vaughan
Have a good Monday!
Today is, of course, the Ides of March, that infamous day upon which Julius Caesar met his end in 44 BC. I’m a huge fan of De Bello Gallico — Caesar was a great general. Anyone interested in leadership should read his works. It’s true that he was ruthless and very ambitious, but I do believe he wanted what was best for Rome (at least as long as it coincided with his own plans). If you have time tonight, raise a toast to Caesar and watch one of the many, many film versions of Shakespeare’s play. You can choose from the 1953 Marlon Brando as Mark Antony version
that’s some outfit, Marlon!
or the Charlton Heston as Mark Antony version from 1970.
with John Gielgud as Caesar
If you are feeling more edgy and contemporary, you can try “Caesar Must Die”, a 2012 Italian film in which a group of actual convicts puts on the play.
It’s an intriguing scenario and I think I might try it, but if you are uncertain, be sure to read son #2’s review, which will appear tomorrow (Sunday) on Rooster Illusion Reviews.
All this talk about the Ides has made me wonder what March 14th was like for Caesar. Did he take the prophecy seriously and foresee his own demise? I doubt it. He was a pretty confident guy and not the type who took such things to heart. Still, even Caesar had his good and bad days. Probably many of them were a mix of both — just like mine was yesterday!
For me, March 14 was delightful and seriously trying in equal measures. I’ll start with the delightful. My two young friends, about whom I blogged earlier, came over to hang out and play with some Lego that son #2 had carefully set up for the occasion in our family room. This time they also brought their mother and little brother. We drank tea and munched on the cookies they baked us, while the boys adventured. A great time was had by all.
What’s wrong with this picture?
However, if you look closely, you’ll notice something wrong in the background. Yes, on the left is a book tower with a towel and bucket on top. The temperature outside being in the mid forties, the new 8″ of snow we got earlier in the week and months of accumulated ice had finally started to melt…and make the roof leak.
Drip, drip, drip
Damn the ice dams! My ceiling is a mess, but I’m more worried about the floor. The water dripped into a bucket, but some of it went down the back of the wall and onto or under the floor, which is laminate. How will it dry out? Will there be mildew? Quelle disaster! I called various roofing companies, but despite their promises, no one called back. I suspect we weren’t the only ones experiencing this problem. Sigh…
True to the Janus nature of things, outside the weather is a mix of rain and snow. They say that it is inevitable that Spring will come, but I’m beginning to wonder. Has Spring sprung where you are?
Monday is St. Patrick’s Day and a lot of people will be celebrating this weekend. However, besides watching The Quiet Man, which I blogged about here, I am not a great one for celebrating the feast day of old St. Patrick.
I must admit that I do have some Irish blood. My Irish ancestors–the Carnahans–hailed from County Antrim in Northern Ireland. Our great-great-great-great-grandfather, David Carnahan came to the U.S. in the mid-18th century, fought in the American Revolution and settled in Alleghany County, Pennsylvania. The Carnahans were staunch Presbyterians. One of our cousins, James Carnahan (below), a Presbyterian minister, became the President of Princeton University where he served from 1823 to 1854 (longer than any other President).
His cousin James was married to my namesake Catherine Rand in 1857 by the Episcopal bishop of New Hampshire and had seven children in Ravenna, Ohio. They, of course, were brought up as Episcopalians.
My most favorite Irish thing is the Cuala Press which was established by Elizabeth Yeats, sister of William Butler Yeats and Jack Yeats, in 1908. It played an important part in the “Celtic Revival” in the early 20th century.
“In Each Gold Flower”, Text by Temple Lane and Illustration by Dorothy Blackham, Box 3, Folder 6, Cuala Press Printed Materials Collection, MS2005-35, John J. Burns Library, Boston College.
I have a framed print in my office and one at home that I bought in the Trinity College Bookstore in Dublin. I do love these woodcuts!
Up for auction in the past
The real things go up for auction from time to time and are worth a pretty penny. If I had money to spare, I would have my own collection! Don’t you just love them?
Of course, no discussion of favorite Irish things would be complete without mention of Errol Flynn. Although not strictly speaking Irish–he was born in Tasmania of Australian parents of English, Scottish and Irish descent and an Anglican–we can enjoy his movies on St. Patrick’s Day if we want to. And thanks to a good friend who sent me this DVD, I will be watching this classic Flynn opus:
I also plan to watch The Sea Hawk (1940) which I DVR’d on TCM last week.
It is a fun movie directed by the great Michael Curtiz. Unfortunately Olivia de Haviland is nowhere in sight. But it does have Flora Robson as Queen Elizabeth I, and if you ask me, she is 10 times better than Bette Davis as the Virgin Queen.
As for food, nothing Irish comes to mind. When we were growing up our mother would make corned beef and cabbage and boiled potatoes on March 17, mostly because she just liked them. I was never a fan of this meal. I preferred the corned beef hash she made the next day.
What is your favorite Irish thing?
Well, while you’re thinking about that, I’ll wrap this up with the words of Pat Cohan: “Ah, what a day for Innisfree! On a day like this, I can say only one thing – Gentlemen, the drinks are on the house!”
Sláinte to all Carnahans!
On this day in 1906 Susan Brownell Anthony died at the age of 86 of heart failure and pneumonia in her home in Rochester, New York. At her birthday celebration in Washington a few days earlier, she spoke of those who had worked with her for women’s rights: “There have been others also just as true and devoted to the cause—I wish I could name every one—but with such women consecrating their lives, failure is impossible!”
Truly she consecrated her life to her mission. Anthony did not live to see the achievement of women’s suffrage at the national level, but she was proud of the progress the women’s movement had made. At the time of her death, women had achieved suffrage in Wyoming, Utah, Colorado and Idaho, and several larger states followed soon after.
Anthony traveled extensively in support of women’s suffrage, giving as many as 75 to 100 speeches per year and working on many state campaigns. In September 1877, at the age of 57, she visited the mining town of Lake City, Colorado where our ancestors, the Houghs, lived. Well, Lake City was a happening place in those days.
Here she describes the 84-mile stagecoach journey from Del Norte to Lake City, bumping over
mountains and through their various passes, crossing the divide between the waters that flow into the Atlantic and Pacific, at its highest point over 11,000 feet. And the ride down the mountain pass, “Slum Gullion” they call it, was the most fearful rough and tumble I ever experienced…even here, in this deep ravine, just wide enough for the Gunnison River and one street on its bank, the height is still 8,500 feet. All that fearfully long, but beautiful, frosty night the moon shone brightly and on scenery most magnificent. At midnight I alighted at Wagon Wheel Gap, and with tin cup in hand trudged through the sand to the Rio Grande bank, bound to drink fresh from the pure, cold waters from the snow peaks above.
She filled the newly-built Hinsdale County Courthouse to the point that the meeting had to be moved outside. She stood on a wooden box to give her speech. I wish I had a picture of that!
She was, indeed, an amazing woman. You can read about her here.
Today is the feast day of Saint Gregory (540–604) on the Episcopal liturgical calendar. Even though John Calvin was an “admirer” of Gregory and states in his Institutes that he was the last good pope (Book IV, chapter 7:4) and he is the patron saint of musicians, singers, students, and teachers, he doesn’t do much for me.
I had planned to blog about him, but instead I give you these words from Rob Bell, who is a contemporary American author and minister.
Being a Christian is not cutting yourself off from real life; it is entering into it more fully.
It is not failing to go deeper; it is going deeper than ever.
It is a journey into the heart of how things really are.
What is it that makes you feel alive? What is it that makes your soul soar?
—Velvet Elvis
Thoughts? Discuss among yourselves.
