dual personalities

November 18, 2021

“Wash your hands, ye sinners”*

by chuckofish

Today is the last day of my 12-week Bible Study of Leviticus. We’ll start up again in the new year–still with Leviticus. I must say I have a new respect for Leviticus and a new understanding of how all those dietary laws and burnt offering regulations point to the one true and only sacrifice/atonement offered by our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ. It has really been fascinating. And I like my group of ladies. I have enjoyed doing something serious. I have enjoyed doing my homework. I am sure I am a better person for doing it, and, God knows, I need help with that. (Read Leviticus, chapter 19.)

ONE DAY I WAS having lunch with two Wheaton students who were talking about whatever they were talking about—the weather, the movies—when without warning one of them asked the other as naturally as he would have asked the time of day what God was doing in his life. If there is anything in this world I believe, it is that God is indeed doing all kinds of things in the lives of all of us including those who do not believe in God and would have nothing to do with him if they did, but in the part of the East where I live, if anybody were to ask a question like that, even among religious people, the sky would fall, the walls would cave in, the grass would wither. I think the very air would stop my mouth if I opened it to speak such words among just about any group of people I can think of in the East because their faith itself, if they happen to have any, is one of the secrets that they have kept so long that it might almost as well not exist. The result was that to find myself at Wheaton among people who, although they spoke about it in different words from mine and expressed it in their lives differently, not only believed in Christ and his Kingdom more or less as I did but were also not ashamed or embarrassed to say so was like finding something which, only when I tasted it, I realized I had been starving for years.
–Frederick Buechner, Telling Secrets

Have you noticed that the red kettles are out and the Salvation Army bell ringers with them? Every year, from November through Christmas Eve, bell ringers stand next to Salvation Army kettles around the world and encourage passers by to donate money for those in need. The donations are used throughout the year to extend a variety of assistance to members of the community. This holiday tradition began in 1891 when Salvation Army Captain Joseph McFee placed an empty crab pot outside a San Francisco ferry landing to collect money and provide a free Christmas dinner for the city’s destitute and poverty-stricken. Beside the pot he placed a sign that read, “Keep the Pot Boiling.” As the boats came in, people tossed a coin or two into the pot, and soon he had all the money needed to purchase the meal. The idea soon spread to other cities, and it continues today.

So don’t be annoyed, be glad that the Salvation Army is still out there doing good. Carry some dollar bills in your purse or pocket so you are ready with some cash–because who uses cash anymore? Be generous and get in the holiday swing.

Yesterday was World Preemie Day, so, of course, daughter #3 made the wee twins special shirts to wear. (Lottie’s pants were real special too.)

Their shirts said: “Fight like a preemie/ 27 weeker/1 lb. 12 oz.” Lest we forget.

Fans of Dean Martin (and who isn’t?) may be interested in this.

This was very awesome.

And I ran across this recently. Perfect.

Sooner or later God’ll cut you down.

*James 4:8

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November 17, 2021

“OOOOOH, that’s a nice lam job. This one goes on the blog.”*

by chuckofish

Well, I really can’t believe it is Tuesday evening already and I have to do another blog post! I will be honest and say that I had been thinking about writing something similar to what my mother wrote today. Which I guess makes sense since we had the same weekend and the same conversations. Anyway, here’s a picture of a really good donut I got after an early morning getting the bossman on the local news (always an adventure, especially when I have to drive).

In other exciting news, I got a new rug for my dining room. I am quite pleased with how it looks–and very grateful that my mother was able to help me get into place when she visited.

I took Monday off to catch up on some sewing and holiday prep (and because sometimes doing chores on the weekend just defeats the purpose). I had a very productive day and even got some sewing (and cutting) done. Guys, I made a buttonhole!

So, yes, it turns out I guess I have written a part deux of my mother’s post. I am grateful for the little things in my life even if the second I get to work the world brings me down. Here’s a tidbit from Father Tim.

He thought of the old needlepoint sampler his grandmother had done, framed and hanging in the rectory kitchen. He had passed it so often of the years, he had quit seeing it. The patient stitching, embellished with faded cabbage roses, quoted a verse from the Sixty-eight Psalm.
“Blessed be the Lord,” it read, “who daily loadeth us with benefits.”
“Loadeth!” he exclaimed aloud. “Daily!”
Out to Canan, Jan Karon

*Obviously, Amy Santiago on Brooklyn Nine-Nine referring to her laminating skills.

3 Comments

November 16, 2021

Who makes much of miracles?

by chuckofish

In yesterday’s blog post I described a fun overnight visit to my daughter in Jefferson City. I was thinking more about it and it occurred to me that there was nothing particularly “Instagrammable” or blog-worthy about it. It was very ordinary indeed. But isn’t it in the ordinary that we see the beauty and blessings of God’s world?

Sure, it would have been great to eat dinner at the Gasparilla Inn in Boca Grande or sit on a patio overlooking Lake Como sipping a cocktail. But for me, eating lunch at the Grand on High Street in our state capitol is really just as pleasant. Driving around that small midwestern town and seeing the park and the local university was just as fun as sightseeing in Washington D.C. My point being that wherever you are, there you are, and your glass is either half full or half empty.

My glass is half full. I wake up every morning and thank God that His mercies are new every morning. (Some days it takes me a moment or two to remember what day it is or what month, but I get there eventually.) And there is usually a pot of coffee going that the OM made before I got up. And I know that nothing extraordinary will happen to me today–at least I hope not–but the memory of holding my grandchildren’s tiny hands as we crossed the church parking lot on Sunday will keep me going all week.

Well, I am going to tidy up and get ready for a houseful of family at Thanksgiving. I am thankful for a sweet son-in-law who is driving his family 700 miles to be here. I am thankful for a sweet daughter-in-law who is making special matching holiday pajamas for the cousins–a family tradition on her side of the family. We’ll have cheesy potato casserole and green beans and crescent rolls and Dierberg’s will prepare the turkey breast. And even if there is no canned jellied cranberry this year because of the sorry state of commerce in our country (I noted the absence of this staple today at Dierberg’s), we’ll survive. If the whole meal implodes, we’ll be fine. Because it’s not just about the yummy food and the perfect table settings. We have plenty to be thankful for.

Yes, it is November and we like to count our blessings extra hard in the run-up to Thanksgiving. I encourage you to do this as well. But keep in mind that being grateful means little if you do not know and acknowledge to whom you are grateful. So praise God from whom all blessings flow/Praise Him, all creatures here below/Praise Him above, ye heavenly host/Praise Father, Son and Holy Ghost.

And take note of all the miracles in your life!

Why, who makes much of a miracle?
As to me I know of nothing else but miracles,
Whether I walk the streets of Manhattan,
Or dart my sight over the roofs of houses toward the sky,
Or wade with naked feet along the beach just in the edge of the water,
Or stand under trees in the woods,
Or talk by day with any one I love, or sleep in the bed at night with any one I love,
Or sit at table at dinner with the rest,
Or look at strangers opposite me riding in the car,
Or watch honey-bees busy around the hive of a summer forenoon,
Or animals feeding in the fields,
Or birds, or the wonderfulness of insects in the air,
Or the wonderfulness of the sundown, or of stars shining so quiet and bright,
Or the exquisite delicate thin curve of the new moon in spring;
These with the rest, one and all, are to me miracles,
The whole referring, yet each distinct and in its place.
To me every hour of the light and dark is a miracle,
Every cubic inch of space is a miracle,
Every square yard of the surface of the earth is spread with the same,
Every foot of the interior swarms with the same.
To me the sea is a continual miracle,
The fishes that swim—the rocks—the motion of the waves—the
ships with men in them,
What stranger miracles are there?
–Walt Whitman

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November 15, 2021

Treat yourself

by chuckofish

My weekend made an interesting zig zag when daughter #1 came home on Wednesday night for a work event on Thursday and stayed until Friday morning. Then we drove back to JC together so we could do some Christmas shopping on Saturday.

We walked over to High Street to eat lunch. The capitol looked beautiful. That night we drank wine, ate some French bread and cheese…

… and watched a favorite Rock Hudson movie, Come September (1961).

That’s the one where where a quartet of hipster college boys take on Rock Hudson and lose terribly. A classic.

On Saturday we drove to Osage Beach and checked out the outlet mall–the four stores we like anyway–and did quite well. We braved the line to get into the Bath & Body Works to buy our 3-wick candles…Buy one, get one 50% off–such a deal!

When we got back to JC we drove around and found the neighborhood with the big old houses and also Hough Park with its serene lake and golf course in the middle of town.

Hough Park is named after Judge Arthur M. Hough who presented 50 acres to the City Council in 1917, requesting the land be used for the city’s first public park. I know you are wondering, but, no, Judge Hough was not a relative of ours–he descended from the Houghs that settled in Virginia. His father George Hough moved west to Jefferson City and helped establish the first Episcopal Church in JC. The name “Grace” was given to the parish and the name of the association was “Rector, Church Wardens and Vestrymen of Grace Church, Jefferson City”. George Hough served on the first Vestry and his wife, Mary C. Hough, was the first person confirmed there on April 17, 1841, by the Rt. Reverend Bishop Kemper.

We also drove around Lincoln University, which, you will recall, was “founded in 1866 by the men of the 62^nd and 65^th United States Colored Infantries and their white officers, for the special benefit of freed African Americans.”

It has a very nice campus right in the middle of town.

We also went to Central Dairy and brought some coffee ice cream home to eat.

My plan was to take the Amtrak back to St. Louis on Saturday night. This was a good plan–unfortunately the train was an hour late and then halted (without explanation) for about half an hour outside Hermann, MO. This was quite disconcerting (especially when the lights went out) and caused several children to become hysterical and the already drunk group of young women in my car to become drunker. We eventually got going again and rolled in a couple of hours late. The OM was there to pick me up and I was very grateful to be home in quiet Kirkwood. So all’s well that ends well.

Meanwhile daughter #2 and her petite famille moved into a rented house–so exciting for them! I think they are pretty worn out from their exertions!…

We all made it to church again and I have to say the wee twins are making themselves right at home, which is the whole thing, right? They are very comfortable. They learned about Jonah and the whale (“It was a big fish!”). We discussed this lesson during lunch afterwards and I told them that this had actually happened to a man this year on Cape Cod. But this happened to Jonah because he was disobedient. We adults were treated to another slam-bang sermon on Romans 6: 1-14.

Therefore do not let sin reign in your mortal body, that you should obey it in its lusts. And do not present your members as instruments of unrighteousness to sin, but present yourselves to God as being alive from the dead, and your members as instruments of righteousness to God. For sin shall not have dominion over you, for you are not under law but under grace.
Romans 6: 12-14

Grace abounding–glory hallelujah!

6 Comments

November 12, 2021

I can write a washing bill in Babylonic cuneiform

by chuckofish

I remember how delighted I felt when I first heard that line from “Modern Major-General”. It seemed an impossible claim and therefore perfect for Gilbert and Sullivan’s Pirates of Penzance. Decades later, though I’ve spent countless hours studying cuneiform, I still can’t write a washing bill. Being able to read a language is much different from being able to write or speak it (at least for me!). The few people who can compose in Akkadian have my complete admiration. Imagine my surprise when I discovered that one of them, Martin Worthington of Trinity College, Dublin, has written dialogue in Akkadian for Eternals, the upcoming Marvel movie. Fortunately for the cast, only a few scenes involve speaking the ancient language. I couldn’t find a clip, but you can read about it here. Below you can see Marvel’s fanciful (and wildly inaccurate) vision of ancient Babylon, complete with the Ishtar Gate as part of the outer wall. Someone had fun on the computer…

Much as I’d like to hear the A-list actors uttering Akkadian, I’m not planning on seeing the film which supposedly clocks in at a mere 2 hours and 37 minutes. I’ll wait for the right scenes to hit Youtube, thank you very much.

A more fun and accessible Akkadian movie hit Assyriological circles a couple of years ago when students at Cambridge University in the UK, then under the tutelage of the same Martin Worthington who worked on Eternals, produced a wonderful version of The Poor Man of Nippur. Many famous Assyriologists make cameo appearances (and, no, famous Assyriologists is not a contradiction in terms). Give it a watch; it’ll transport you back in time to the first millennium BC, albeit in a Medieval setting. Be sure to enable the subtitles by hitting the cc button at the bottom.

Here are the opening lines of the poem:

There once was a man of Nippur, poor and needy,
His name was Gimil-Ninurta, a wretched man.
He dwelt in his city Nippur in abject misery:
He had no silver, as befits his people,
He had no gold, as befits humankind,
His larder wanted for pure grain.
His insides burned, craving for bread,
His face was wretched, craving meat and good drink,
Every day, for want of a meal, he went to sleep hungry.
trans. B. R. Foster, Before the Muses, p. 931

Though it might remind you a little of Job, this story goes on to show how our clever protagonist Gimil-Ninurta gets the better of his oppressors. It is a folk tale, not a religious lesson, but it still has a lot to tell us about the ancient Near East. We might also learn to count our blessings, use our heads, and roll with the punches.

Have a grand weekend!

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November 11, 2021

A labyrinth of loves

by chuckofish

We know it is November because the Christmas Cactus is throwing out buds like crazy! So excitiing!

In other news, I was talking to the boy one day last week and we were discussing my blogpost about my Top 10 favorite/best films. He asked me why I hadn’t included To Kill a Mockingbird (1962) and I said, Oh my gosh, because I forgot it! It definitely belongs in the Top 10, maybe Top 5.

So I’ll have to revise my Top 10 and move To Have and Have Not down to 11-15. Sheesh. I am getting old. He also questioned my exclusion of The Professionals (1967) and I said it would definitely be in the top 20 list. So I guess I will start working on a Top 11-20 list. We are such nerds. But I am thankful that I have a son with whom I can discuss movies.

Since it is Veterans Day, which we should all acknowledge, I propose to watch one of my favorite war movies. I looked up on the AFI website to see if they had a top 100 war movies list, but they do not. In fact, there are only six war movies in their top 100 list! Of course, only one of them is a favorite of mine: #37 The Best Years of Their Lives (1946).

The other five are: #52 From Here to Eternity (1953); #54 All Quiet on the Western Front (1930); $79 The Deer Hunter (1978); #83 Platoon (1986); #89 Patton (1970). Not terrible movies, but not favorites of mine.

No, I would suggest watching one of these WWII movies in memory of WWII Guy: They Were Expendable (1945); 12 O’Clock High (1949); Air Force (1943); or The Great Escape (1962).

If you’re not in the mood for WWII, I suggest: Drums Along the Mohawk (1939); She Wore a Yellow Ribbon (1949); The Horse Soldiers (1959); The Sand Pebbles (1966); or Glory (1989).

I ain’t much about no prayin’, now. I ain’t never had no family, and… Well, I just… Y’all’s the onliest family I got. I love the 54th. Ain’t even much a matter what happens tomorrow, ’cause we men, ain’t we?

Today the Lutheran Church celebrates the feast day of Soren Kierkegaard, the Danish writer, philosopher and theologian, who died on this day in 1855. That is interesting considering Kierkegaard was extremely critical of the practice of Christianity as a state religion, particularly the Church of Denmark. But I’m okay with old Soren, so let us pray one of his prayers:

O Lord, calm the waves of this heart; and calm its tempests. Calm yourself, O my soul, so that the divine can act in you. Calm yourself, O my soul, so that God is able to repose in you, so that his peace may cover you. Yes, Father in Heaven, often have I found that the world around me cannot give me peace, O but make me feel that you are able to give me peace. Let me know the truth of your promise, that the whole world may not take away your peace. Amen.

I think this is true.

And I can’t tell you how much watching this reminds me of my mother. What do you think the Queen carries in her purse?

Finally, here is a poem “To the Son” by Jorge Luis Borges:

It was not I who begot you. It was the dead—
my father, and his father, and their forebears,
all those who through a labyrinth of loves
descend from Adam and the desert wastes
of Cain and Abel, in a dawn so ancient
it has become mythology by now,
to arrive, blood and marrow, at this day
in the future, in which I now beget you.
I feed their multitudes. They are who we are,
and you among us, you and the the sons to come
that you will beget. The latest in the line
and in red Adam’s line. I too am those others.
Eternity is present in the things
of time and its impatient happenings
–translated by Alistair Reid

Enjoy the day! Read a poem.

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November 10, 2021

Tassels really up the ante, don’t you think

by chuckofish

I wore these shoes on Monday because how can one be unhappy with giant tassels/pom poms on one’s shoes? Well, I didn’t wear them today and my mood tonight reflects the brown loafer mules I wore instead. That is to say,

I finished the first of my sewing projects last week–but not before accidentally cutting a giant hole in the bodice and having to get creative with my bow placement. As one does. The sewing world really utilizes all the parts of one’s brain. Can’t recommend it enough.

Also, on Sunday, I realized that I really needed some background TV, that is TV that doesn’t require attention so that I can get stuff done while it is on. So I signed up for Sling and the Hallmark Channel (just until January) and boy, I gave up Hallmark movies at some point in 2021 and I have not missed a thing. They just crack me up. The movie I saw was about a girl who plays violin at a restaurant but is afraid to audition for the Philharmonic because the one time she tried she got the hiccups and embarrassed herself. A man moves in nextdoor who is a writer and a grump who hates Christmas and won’t decorate even though the whole street goes all out. Somehow, he ends up having to watch his niece and nephew for several days and they want to decorate so the girl next store helps and they go ice skating and bake cookies and eventually fall in love but not before there is a misunderstanding about relationship status. Also, it turns out his mom tricked him into watching the niece and nephew because she thought he needed to loosen up or something? I turned it off before I found out if the girl made the Philharmonic without getting the hiccups.

How am I not in charge of programming for this network?!

Despite all of this, I truly can’t believe Thanksgiving is a mere two weeks away. Now that I have a job that allows me to be off for the holiday, I have grown to really appreciate it. Even last year when it was just my parents and me alone at the table with our delicious meal. This year, if all goes according to plan, we will all be together. It will likely be loud and kind of crazy. And I will do the crescent rolls.

Anywho, I think I’ll end with this reminder as we hit mid-week (I like the whole paragraph):

“I have learned in whatever situation I am to be content. I know how to be brought low, and I know how to abound. In any circumstance, I have learned the secret of facing plenty and hunger, abundance and need. I can do all things through him who gives me strength.”

–Phillipians 4:11-13

5 Comments

November 9, 2021

Grace abounding

by chuckofish

Well, we are experiencing some beautiful fall weather and I am grateful. The weekend was beautiful.

On Saturday I gave a talk on the history of the Santa Fe Trail to a group of DAR ladies. Daughter #1 accompanied me and provided tech support, because as I’ve learned in my years in academia, one always needs tech support (plus multiple back-ups, several PowerPoint versions of your talk, dongles, thumb drives etc. etc. etc.)

Everything went smoothly and I guess the ladies enjoyed it. I was pinch-hitting for someone in Kansas City in the Missouri River Outfitters chapter of the Santa Fe Trail Association of which I am a member–obviously I’m the only chapter member who lives in St. Louis!

This experience did motivate me to look into the National Society of the Daughters of the American Revolution. My maternal grandmother was a pillar of the DAR and now that I am retired, it might be something I could get interested in. It was the DAR, after all, who originally took on the important task of preserving the Santa Fe Trail and placing markers along the way, thus saving the trail from literally blowing away in the wind. The DAR in Kansas began the monumental task of marking the Trail in Kansas in 1902. Soon chapters of the DAR in Missouri, Colorado, and New Mexico followed suit and marked the Trail in their respective states. Pink granite markers were placed where one could see the original ruts or swales, or where traders still living indicated the location of the route. Four Madonna of the Trail statues honor the women who traveled the trail. Just another example of private citizens (and women at that) organizing a project, raising money and seeing it through to completion.

We are hoping to make the trek soon to Franklin, Missouri, the original site of the beginning of the trail…

…that is, before Franklin was washed away by a flood in 1827. Then the trailhead moved west to Westport Landing.

We got up early on Sunday and made a Tater Tot breakfast casserole before going to church to meet the boy and the wee babes for the 6th week in a row! They are really enjoying Sunday School. Lottie corrected my pronunciation of Naaman. (You remember him. He was the commander of the Syrian army who was healed of his leprosy by Elijah.) After brunch, daughter #1 headed back to JC and the twins went home to wreck havoc there.

We did get to FaceTime with our precious Katiebelle who is also (obviously) brilliant:

It was a nice quiet weekend.

Now as the week progresses, remember what the @madcapcottage boys say: “Be optimistic. Be happy. Don’t live with fear. Act like a kid. Create new chapters. Ditch the pessimists in your life. And always wear bunny ears whenever the opportunity arises.” Hear, hear!

4 Comments

November 8, 2021

Well done, good and faithful servant

by chuckofish

I received some news on Friday that made me very sad. My old and dear friend “WWII Guy” died last week in Georgia. I was not expecting it and the news came as a surprise. We had emailed back and forth in September when the debacle in Afghanistan was going on and I helped him tone down a letter to the editor he had written. The paper eventually published it and he was very pleased.

WWII Guy grew up in Edina, MN. He was a kid during WWII but his young uncle, whom he idolized, served. He was the president of his senior class and went to Cornell and then law school. He was a Big Time lawyer in San Francisco and Chicago, before moving to St. Louis to semi-retire.

He had a lifelong passion for the history of WWII and for flying, and during the 10 years I knew him as a student and facilitator at my flyover institute, he led over 20 classes on the war, a continuing saga covering every battle and engagement fought. His WWII classes were very popular.

He was one of my “captains,” someone I could always count on to step up when needed. When he moved to Georgia, he left a big hole at my institute. He started reading this blog as a way to stay in touch and he would often comment as “WWII Guy.” He continued to send me a cake every year on my birthday…

… and to take pictures of Mike Matheny for me when he went to Cardinals’ spring training games every spring. At first he would come to visit and he’d take me out to lunch and we would gab away for hours.

But he grew old, this knight so bold, and o’er his heart a shadow, fell as he found…that growing old was really hard. For this former marathon runner, who would drop everything and drive his uncle across country if he needed company, it was indeed hard. He managed to go to his 65th high school reunion in Edina in June this year but it was very hard physically. It was, he told me, a very emotional experience for him, and he was glad he did it. But that was the beginning of the end for WWII Guy.

I like to think of him at the pearly gates, met by Ernie Pyle and Jimmy Stewart (of whom people always told him he reminded them) and maybe James Howell Howard. Into paradise may the angels lead thee, WWII Guy, and at thy coming may the martyrs receive thee, and bring thee into the holy city Jerusalem.

Let us drink a toast (or two) to WWII Guy and maybe watch The Dawn Patrol (1938) which we both loved…

Comfort us in our sorrows at the death of our brother; let our faith be our consolation, and eternal life our hope. Amen.

7 Comments

November 5, 2021

November, dark and quiet

by chuckofish

Another busy but forgettable week has come and gone. On Wednesday snow briefly turned the ground white.

Two hours later the sun came out and the snow melted, but it was pretty while it lasted. Then yesterday we celebrated the DH’s birthday with a dinner he cooked (our favorite beef curry), store bought cake and a few presents. We had a lovely, quiet evening.

Okay, I am obviously struggling to find meaningful, upbeat content. It was the kind of week (nowadays they all seem to be) that left me “gelatinous with fatigue” — to borrow a phrase from George Orwell – and lacking motivation. This appropriately wintry poem by John Clare called “The Shepard’s Calendar: November” captures the feeling pretty well.

The landscape sleeps in mist from morn till noon;
And, if the sun looks through, ’tis with a face
Beamless and pale and round, as if the moon,
When done the journey of her nightly race,
Had found him sleeping, and supplied his place.
For days the shepherds in the fields may be,
Nor mark a patch of sky – blindfold they trace,
The plains, that seem without a bush or tree,
Whistling aloud by guess, to flocks they cannot see …

Here’s hoping I find inspiration before next Friday! Have a good weekend and don’t let the turkeys get you down.

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