Well, here we are in November and the end of the year approaches. Yikes. Thanksgiving is in three weeks! Advent starts on November 28!
However, Advent is not a Presbyterian tradition, and our senior pastor reminded us last Sunday that the Semper Reformanda (always Reforming) does not mean that we’re always adding to the Reformation, or modifying it to fit the world’s trends. No, it means the exact opposite, a return to Reformed confessional standards. So I don’t think Advent will be a thing at our new church.
I am okay with that. Advent has gone commercial anyway–anything to make a buck.
Happy November movie viewing on TCM–check out Laura’s detailed rundown of what’s showing. Sydney Greenstreet is the Star of the Month. I watched The Maltese Falcon (1941) last night for the first time in a very long time, and Sydney was truly one-of-a-kind. They knew about character actors back in the day.
I was happy to see the Atlanta Braves win the World’s Series, although I have pretty much opted out of MLB. But it did my heart good to hear shortstop Dansby Swanson give the glory to God: “God’s always got a plan and having faith in that plan will never fail you.” Amen.
Are we living in the last days? (You know you’ve asked yourself that question.) Here’s the answer:
But don’t allow yourself to get down in the dumps. Here is my favorite three-year old poetry aficionado reciting The Eagle: A Fragment by Aldred, Lord Tennyson. He makes me smile every time!
He clasps the crag with crooked hands;
Close to the sun in lonely lands,
Ring’d with the azure world, he stands.
The wrinkled sea beneath him crawls;
He watches from his mountain walls,
And like a thunderbolt he falls.
Wish me luck on Saturday when I am giving a talk on the Santa Fe Trail to a group of DAR ladies here in town. You can bet I will work in a way to mention ol’ John Simpson Hough. It should be fun, right?
I was walking to the dry cleaners after work today (if it’s only a few blocks away, why give up your parking spot, even if means carrying your pants on a hanger down the sidewalk), when I saw something move in the area behind my apartment building. I was surprised to see this giant rodent standing perfectly still. He stayed like this long enough for me to get my phone out and furiously text a picture to my family. I was so confused because it looks like a beaver but the tail is all wrong. DUH, my nice family replied, telling me it is obviously a woodchuck.
Does anyone else forget that woodchucks are real because growing up this was the only woodchuck you were acquainted with?
I was a little bummed that I didn’t see him stand up on his hind legs. We both just kind of stood very still until I moved first and he disappeared.
Anywho, there’s something about seeing wildlife that is bigger than a squirrel that always gives me a bit of a start. But on the other hand, at least I met one of my neighbors. LOL.
In other news, we’ve entered the sewing deadline part of the year where I have a list of things I need to make and finish before the holidays. Thus, I spend my weekends (when I’m not in St. Louis gallivanting around) working on projects I can’t share. But let me tell you, there are some cute things in the works.
Last September when we were bouncing around southeast Colorado, we visited the John W. Rawlings Heritage Center in Las Animas. A helpful staff person there told me that they had a few volunteers who would do research for me, since their Heritage Library is not open to the public on a regular basis. I filled out a form asking for information concerning my Hough and Prowers ancestors. After some phone message tag and an email, I was getting ready to check back with them when, low and behold, yesterday I received a little packet of photocopies in the mail.
“Bing-pot!”**
Included were photocopies of several photos donated to the museum by one of the daughters of John W. Prowers, including this portrait of our great-great grandmother Mary Prowers Hough at a younger age than previously we have seen with the notation “Aunt Mimie Hough”.
There is a new portrait of Anna Hough, daughter of Mary and John Hough, our great-grandmother (on the left)…
…and of the elusive Susie V. Hough, sister of Anna.
This is thrilling!
There is also a picture of Frank Baron Hough, John and Mary’s son, as a boy…
Here is a new-to-me picture of John S. Hough at an older age…
…and at a very old age in Lake City, Colorado with his son Frank and a young neighbor (Ward Crane) circa August, 1919. “The last picture Dad had made.” (He died on November 28, 2019.) Note he is wearing the Kit Carson coat.
Along with another portrait of Mary Hough which I already have is the notation: “Mrs. Mary Hough, a well beloved Christian whose untiring efforts matched by faith which never wavered, gave to this community its early Baptist Church. In early 1874 a group of seven Baptists, led by Mrs. Mary Hough, associated themselves together for the purpose of organizing a Baptist Church. The first church building was erected that year.” It was the first church in Bent County. Indeed, Mary was what they now call a church “planter”–someone who organized a community of believers wherever she chanced to be. She helped to do this in Las Animas, Lake City and Trinidad, Colorado. She usually ran the Sunday School.
This makes sense since Mary grew up in the wild and wooly Westport Landing, which became Kansas City. Westport, you will recall, was founded by John Calvin McCoy, the missionary who came to help resettle the Eastern tribes that were beginning their migration to the Plains States. He plotted most of the original streets and settlements of the city. His brother-in-law, Johnston Lykins, was the first duly-elected mayor of Kansas City who, along with his wife, Mattie, pulled together the founders of First Baptist Church on April 21,1855. Before this, these pioneers would have met in private homes. Lykins is the minister who married our great-great-great grandmother Susanna Matney Prowers and her second husband Louis Vogel in 1840. They would have been members of this group.
Well, we keep digging away and sometimes our digging yields dividends!
*Sister Sledge
**Bing-pot = bingo and jackpot combined, coined by Jake Peralta
I have been thinking about Halloween and how back in the day, the getting of candy was really the big deal. No one had candy at home. Candy was something we got on special occasions and on Saturday mornings when we went to Spicer’s and spent a nickel on penny candy. Five pieces, which we picked out carefully, in a little brown bag. So a holiday like Halloween was about candy and the hoarding of it thereafter. Our mother made some pretty great costumes early on, but later, when we got older, costumes were secondary and frequently were thrown together at the last minute. It was the free candy that we wanted. Those mini candy bars were a seasonal treat and not available at other times of the year like they are now.
I remember when I was in kindergarten or first grade and I was going over to my best friend Trudy Glick’s house to Trick-or-Treat. She lived in a mansion on a street with other very large houses spaced far apart from each other. My older brother felt sorry for me because obviously we wouldn’t be going to very many houses. Anticipating quite a haul in our own neighborhood, he uncharacteristically and magnanimously actually said he would share his candy with me. Imagine our surprise when the denizens of Dromara Lane gave out full sized candy bars and I came home with a heaping bag of goodies. No apples or cookies or raisins. Lesson learned. (I have no memory of sharing with him, but maybe I did.)
Later, in college, Halloween was an excuse to wear makeup and to try to look sultry…
Now we just turn off the lights and ignore anyone who comes to the door.
Over the weekend we watched our share of “scary” movies: Signs (2002), Night Creatures (1962)–recommended by Paul Zahl–and The Scarecrow of Romney Marsh (1964). Both Night Creatures and The Scarecrow are based on a book by Russell Thorndike, Dr. Syn. I have to admit, I prefer the Disney version. Those historical movies from the early sixties, filmed in England and sometimes starring Patrick McGoohan, were very good. The Scarecrow of Romney Marsh really holds up. And who doesn’t love a story about an Anglican vicar who has a side hustle as a smuggler so he can steal from the government to help the poor…and, of course, the title song?
We all went to church on Sunday. As a special Reformation Day treat, the men’s ensemble (a sextet) sang “A Mighty Fortress is Our God” at the beginning of the service. At the conclusion the wee laddie turned to me and whispered, “That song was awesome!” and he applauded. Luckily, he was not the only one so moved. We had brunch together at home afterwards, which I hope will be our new Sunday routine.
I served Episcopal Souffle, but I may have to change the name now. Calvinist souffle?
We did not get to see the wee twins in their Halloween costumes, but we saw a lot of pictures.
Lottie was a mermaid (striped shirt optional) and the bud was Kion from the Lion King.
Daughter #3 whipped up the costumes as requested. Very wunderbar.
Meanwhile baby Katie sat out Halloween…
…and looked adorable doing so.
Today is All Saints’ Day, at least in the Anglican world. But it is still a good reminder to pause and think about all those saints who have influenced our lives.
On All Saints’ Day, it is not just the saints of the church that we should remember in our prayers, but all the foolish ones and wise ones, the shy ones and overbearing ones, the broken ones and whole ones, the despots and tosspots and crackpots of our lives who, one way or another, have been our particular fathers and mothers and saints, and whom we loved without knowing we loved them and by whom we were helped to whatever little we may have, or ever hope to have, of some kind of seedy sainthood of our own.
This morning the DH ended up walking to work because the car had so much ice on it that it wasn’t worth waiting for it to defrost. Winter is upon us. Last week, before the weather changed, you’ll recall that I posted about Richard John Cuninghame, a zoologist and African adventurer. I came across him while doing a little research on the English illustrator, H.J. Ford. Ford is best known for his pen and ink drawings for the colored fairy book series (The Red Fairy Book, Blue Fairy Book, etc…). I have always loved his work. What could be a better way to start Friday than a look at a few of his drawings? Here, an exhausted black knight leans on his sword after battle.
In this one a young knight faces a very nasty looking dragon and what looks to be a giant. The odds do not favor the knight.
I like this picture of the lute player trying to cheer up a brooding king. It’s easy to imagine the sad king’s story.
This next drawing reminds me of my son Tim and his cat. She isn’t that big but she has the heart of a lion. Who is that bad man peering through the curtain? You just know there’s an enchantment involved.
It is happenstance and nothing more that none of the pictures I have chosen have women in them. Ford drew plenty of damsels and they weren’t all in distress. Nowadays fairy tales are not as popular as they used to be. Supposedly they do not empower women with feminist values (whatever those are) and they are too violent. I suggest that children are perfectly capable of recognizing that ogres don’t exist and prince charming won’t be perfect. Fairy tales have a great deal to offer; not only do they exercise the imagination, but they encourage creativity, resilience, and moral behavior. Read some fairy tales to your children and grandchildren and be sure to study the pictures! You won’t regret it.
Have a happy weekend and do not be troubled!
*Hans Christian Andersen. All images recovered from Google Image.
It is the tail end of blooming season here in flyover-land. We are in our second go-round with this chrysanthemum plant and the same goes for this begonia.
I swear I saw some Iris blooming by the parking lot across from the Baptist Church. Now that’s amazing. A week of warm temperatures and a good rainstorm and voila!
Today is the birthday of actor Dennis Franz, who won four Emmys playing Andy Sipowicz on NYPD Blue–that’s a record, by the way.
Anyway, I am a big fan and I will toast him tonight. I had a couple of classic Andy scenes lined up but I’m afraid I’d be canceled for including them on our blog. NYPD Blue was an honest show and truth is no longer admired or even tolerated much. But hopefully this scene won’t offend anyone…
Here’s a real tearjerker if you’re in the mood. (Nobody does the quarter nod like Andy.)
Of course, All Hallows’ Eve, is coming up on Sunday. Don’t forget that it is also the 504th anniversary of the day Martin Luther posted his 95 Theses on the door of the Castle Church in Wittenberg. This was a momentous occasion as it started the ball rolling for the Reformation.
You can watch the Ligonier Ministries documentary about the life of Martin Luther for free through the end of the month (so hurry!) It is well worth your time.
Although in the sixteenth century the word of God had been taken captive by the Catholic Church, the meaning of sin had been lost, and the death of Christ had been diluted, the Reformation still happened. The Gospel was recovered, the Church was renewed, Christian life was invigorated, and Europe was changed in deep and profound ways. If the Church then, which had been all but lost despite its outward wealth and pomp, could be recovered, so can the Church today. And if Europe could be changed as drastically as it was, so might our world today. Then as now, however, the prerequisite is a Christian life that is biblically faithful and a Church that is doctrinally shaped, morally tough, intellectually vibrant, and buoyant with a faith that can lay hold of the promises of God in the face of circumstantial disconfirmation and see God’s great power at work.
Contributors to this blog, I think it is safe to say, are not here for large lawn decor and overly-ghoulish Halloween festivities. That said, I (daughter #2) am all for adorable toddler costumes, ranging from baby pumpkins…
to more advanced character ‘fits. This year, Katie will dress as Madeline:
This was the clearest picture we could get, with my production assistant (DN) assisting with hat placement and book distraction.
I really can’t blame Katie for being anti-costume after a long day at school (and probably feeling hangry for dinner). Regardless, she makes a very adorable Parisian girl.
There will be no daycare parade or anything like that, but Katie is attending a Halloween playdate where the children will be in their costumes. (The invitation said, “parent costumes optional!” as if “required” might have been an alternative — no thank you.)
I am rather proud of this DIY costume. (Or is it semi-DIY, like “semi-homemade cooking”? I am certainly not at the skill-level of daughter #3, who routinely sews head-to-toe outfits. See twin dinosaurs from 2019 below!) I followed directions online to cut out felt pieces and glue them together into something approximating the hat and bow for Madeline’s outerwear. But I am happy to have only purchased a dress (to replicate Madeline’s coat) that Katie can wear again, and shoes that she will wear for the holidays. (She will wear sneakers to the playdate.)
As you might guess, having children reveals to you all of the things your own mother did for you, and all of the time and effort and emotion she spend doing those things. Here I am wearing a DIY Power Rangers costume in the 1990s:
Do I spy Keds? Like mother, like daughter…More impressive felt work
Well, I seem to recall that I said something insulting like, “So-and-so had a real Power Rangers costume.” I cringe now to think of it. Sunrise, sunset. If you hadn’t guessed, I am finding all of this felt to be very touching.
We had some crazy midwestern weather the other night, tornadoes et al, but we are okay and no one died. We are once again reminded that with all our scientific advancements, they still can’t control the weather, try as they might. They’re not even that good at predicting it.
While daughter #1 was home this past weekend, we watched Breakfast at Tiffany’s (1961), which, as you know, is one of my top-five American movies of all time. I have recently re-read the Truman Capote novella…
…and it was good to see the movie and how great Audrey Hepburn was (as opposed to Marilyn Monroe, whom TC imagined in the part.) We enjoyed it and it lifted our spirits, as all favorite movies do.
Anyway, it got me thinking–in the middle of the night when all great thinking is done–about my top-five movies of all time and how they haven’t changed over the years.
They are (in order by year of production): The Adventures of Robin Hood (1938) directed by Michael Curtiz; Stagecoach (1939) directed by John Ford; The Wizard of Oz (1939) directed by Victor Fleming; Shane (1953) directed by George Stevens; and Breakfast at Tiffany’s (1961) directed by Blake Edwards.
These movies are in my opinion perfect and I would not change a thing about them. I guess it’s sad that there is no movie on my list after 1961!
It got me thinking about what movies would round out my top 10 and I came up with these: To Have and Have Not (1943) directed by Howard Hawks; The Best Years of Our Lives (1946) directed by William Wyler; My Darling Clementine (1948) directed by John Ford; The Searchers (1956) directed by John Ford; Ben Hur directed by William Wyler (1959).
Those are 10 great movies!
Do you have a top-ten list? You might try making one. And then buy the DVDs. They’ll be canceling them soon. I mean did you ever see the Simpsons Treehouse of Horror episode (2020) where they do the take-off of Toy Story? At the end Ben Mankiewicz starts to introduce what’s coming up next on TCM–some movie with Debbie Reynolds saying something ethnically offensive about the Irish–and then he says, “And next on TCM…Nothing.” Blank screen. I’m not the only one that worries about this.
Speaking of movies, here’s an article by Paul Zahl about Hammer horror films, just in time for Halloween. He even comments on private baptisms–“let’s hear it again for private baptisms on Saturday afternoons — public baptisms on Sunday morning are starting to get old.” Amen, brother.
And this is a great article about the importance of actually going to church on Sunday morning and the inanity of “self-care Sunday.”
Where is that big eye freaked out emoji? Decorate “some” pumpkins? How many? With what? But seriously, if that freaks you out as it does me, keep scrolling to discover that “loving yourself first” is one of the key ingredients of self-care Sunday, as well as taking a hot bath and “loving yourself instead of loving the idea of other people loving you.”
I saw this quote from Jeremiah 10:23 in a daily devotional I follow: “Lord, I know that people’s lives are not their own; it is not for them to direct their steps.” True, true, true.
Curious, I looked up the rest of the prayer, which in typical Episcopalian fashion, the author of the devotional had left out. Oh golly, always look for the context:
Lord, I know that people’s lives are not their own; it is not for them to direct their steps. 24 Discipline me, Lord, but only in due measure— not in your anger, or you will reduce me to nothing. 25 Pour out your wrath on the nations that do not acknowledge you, on the peoples who do not call on your name. For they have devoured Jacob; they have devoured him completely and destroyed his homeland.
We were given a real treat last week when an old friend from my former flyover university offered me her tickets to the Marty Stuart concert at the Sheldon on Friday night. She and her husband are still “not comfortable” with going to venues with a big crowd, so her loss was our gain. We had to show our vax cards and wear a mask, so I’m not sure what the problem was, but whatever. Daughter #1 drove in from JC to go with us and drive. We made it downtown, despite missed exits and closed ramps, and managed not to detour to Illinois. Before the concert started, I sipped my wine so I didn’t have to have my mask up the whole time. It’s like waiting in the bar at the airport, where you don’t have to wear a mask. If you’re drinking, you can’t pass germs, right?
We had fourth row seats, so we had a great view of Marty and the Fabulous Superlatives, who were as always, superlative.
Marty and Handsome Harry Stinson have aged a bit like the rest of us, but they put on quite a show and the crowd was truly on fire. I have been a fan of Marty for 50 years (he’s been touring since he was 12) and we have seen Marty in concert four or five times (at least). This was the best ever. It was a super fun time.
On Saturday we went to a couple of estate sales and out to lunch and then embarked on a search in the basement for some vintage dresses for Katie to try on when she visits at Thanksgiving. Then we had our first fire of the season and listened to some LPs we purchased at the estate sale for 50 cents each.
We also FaceTimed with daughter #2 and Katie who has an ear infection and a runny nose but rallied and only disconnected us once. She can say, “Hi, Mam!” and kiss the screen. Brilliant.
On Sunday the boy dropped the wee twins off before church because he had to open his store and daughter #3 had to go to a craft show where she had a booth.
We had a little play time before heading to church where I was pleased to see them resist their depraved natures and behave. I had to laugh at Lottie, who exclaimed when a member of our newcomer class said hello, “I’m Lottie. L-O-T-T-I-E! With two “T’s!” After church we came home and ate bagels and creme cheese.
(“I just love this arctic seal.”)
(Reading the literally best book ever, “Cars and Trucks and Things that Go”)
The post I planned was completely different from the one I have written. While I was putting together one topic, I ran across an interesting fellow named Richard John (‘Dick’) Cuninghame, a Scottish naturalist and African explorer/safari leader who was born in 1871 and died in 1925. He started off in the normal way of his class and time; that is, he attended Eton and then Cambridge. Exactly how he got into the life of a safari leader and explorer I cannot say, but he made a name for himself and became a fellow of both the Zoological Society and Meteorological Society. Here he is looking bemused in Cairo, Egypt in 1902 at the start of his first expedition.
Having made it into the African interior to collect zoological specimens with his friend Douglas McDouall, he promptly came down with a dangerous eye infection. Despite constant pain and complete blindness, he did not turn back. His diary entry for February 27, 1902, reads:
“I had had little sleep before the caravan arrived and on wakening noticed a peculiar gumminess around my right eye… the following day matters became serious and I lost vision in the right eye… After spending hundreds of pounds, and march[ing] hundreds of miles, though gameless, badly watered, and pestilential country, and to have just and only just arrived at the commencement of a really good game country, in a land but imperfectly explored, a combination of circumstances we had eagerly looked forward to for months past. Sitting, however, in the middle of a mountain range and pondering over regrets, in the dark, for by now I had lost the vision in both of my eyes, was of little practical use, so on the abating of the acute pain we decided to endeavour to reach the Nile again.” (From a Bonham’s auction catalog)
Though he was still blind when they embarked on the Nile, he managed to captain the boat anyway. Now that’s determination. Fortunately, his eyesight gradually returned to normal and he was able to continue his explorations. Here he is a few years later, looking a little the worse for wear after a day of trekking.
Eventually, his reputation won him the honor of leading, from April 1909 to March 1910, the Smithsonian-Roosevelt expedition, the famous safari that Teddy Roosevelt took after his second term as president ended. According to Wikipedia, “Their route ran from Mombasa in British East Africa to the Belgian Congo, then to the Nile and along the river to Khartoum. More than 11,000 animals were shot or captured during the trip, Theodore Roosevelt and his son Kermit shot 512 large game alone. The organization on site, namely the selection of the almost 200 porters as well as the askari and the staff for weapons, horses and tents was the responsibility of Cuninghame. On at least one occasion, a hippopotamus attack, Cuninghame is believed to have saved Roosevelt’s life.” People didn’t exercise a lot of restraint in those days, but they did collect a lot of important specimens. As one would expect, TR and Cuninghame got along well. Here’s the intrepid Teddy with a waterbuck.
When WWI broke out, Cuninghame returned to England and tried to enlist only to be turned down on account of his chronic malaria. Not to be put off, he went to France and became an ambulance driver. Eventually, he returned to Africa, where he continued to serve and earned the Military Cross. After the war, he gave up the safari life and retired to his family estate, Hensol House in Scotland.
Called the “baby Balmoral”, the large estate recently sold for over 14 million pounds. I bet it’s cold and drafty inside. Cuninghame and his wife (the sister of his friend Douglas McDouall) never had any children, presumably because he was gone too much and by the time, he settled down it was too late. He died of a brain tumor at the age of 54 but at least he led a full life.
Just when I’m ready to give up on the Internet altogether, I come across some new and interesting story. I guess there is an upside to all the technology, although sometimes it’s hard to see it.
dual personalities 