dual personalities

October 12, 2016

“Hold Thou Thy cross before my closing eyes, Shine through the gloom and point me to the skies”

by chuckofish

This is the day Nurse Edith Cavell was executed in 1915 by the Germans during WWI.

Accused of treason, i.e. helping British and French soldiers to cross the border and eventually enter Britain, Edith was found guilty by a court-martial and sentenced to death. Despite international pressure for mercy, she was shot by a German firing squad. Her execution received worldwide condemnation and extensive press coverage. While the First Geneva Convention ordinarily guaranteed protection of medical personnel, the German authorities justified prosecution merely on the basis of the German law and the interests of the German state. What were they thinking?

In the months and years following Edith’s death, countless newspaper articles, pamphlets, images, and books publicized her story. Her execution was represented as an act of German barbarism and moral depravity. (As it turned out, they weren’t wrong on that count.) The Allies claimed Edith as a martyr and she became an iconic propaganda figure for military recruitment in Britain. Within eight weeks of her death, enlistment into the British Army had doubled.

Edith, aged 49, was executed by firing squad just outside Brussels on October 12, 1915. Permission was given for the English Chaplain, the Rev. Stirling Gahan, to visit her the night before she died and together they repeated the words to the hymn Abide With Me. It was also to Gahan that Edith made her famous comment that “patriotism is not enough”. Her strong Anglican beliefs propelled her actions and so the Church of England commemorates her in their calendar of saints on October 12. Although we do not commemorate Edith Cavell on our Episcopal calendar, I think it is fitting that we recognize her here.

Martyrs never regret
what they have done
having done it.
Amazing too
they never frown.
It is all so mysterious
the way they remain
above us
beside us
within us;
how they beam
a human sunrise
and are so proud.

–Alice Walker

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October 11, 2016

Drawing the line

by chuckofish

Charles Mason and Jeremiah Dixon completed surveying for the “Mason-Dixon line” separating Maryland and Pennsylvania on this day in 1767. The work was done between 1763 and 1767 in order to resolve a border dispute involving Maryland, Pennsylvania, and Delaware.

In popular usage, the Mason–Dixon line still symbolizes a cultural boundary between the North and the South.

Reading about this, it suddenly occurred to me that the name “Dixie” (used as a historical nickname for the southern states) must derive from Jeremiah Dixon’s name!

Mind-blowing that I just thought of that. Did you know that?

Anyway, here’s a great song by Mark Knopfler (with James Taylor) about Mason and Dixon, which was itself inspired by the book Mason & Dixon by Thomas Pynchon.

P.S. I read that book back in the 1990s and liked it.

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October 10, 2016

Just as I am*

by chuckofish

Before we went home a little early on Friday in deference to the pre-debate ballyhoo/media circus at our flyover university, we had a long convo with our old friend the campus exterminator. (He really is one of the nicest guys we know–and the cutest. Picture Nathan Fillion if you will.)

He said there were no vermin in the traps he had set the week before. It seems that the rodent we spied last Friday was an errant vole who must have found his way out of the building. Before he left, our exterminator regaled us with tales of our building before the renovation 15 years ago when large rats held sway on the loading dock. We rolled our eyes appreciatively and assured him he was our hero. Unfortunately he could not linger because he had to take the traps over to some dorm where there was a mouse infestation. It seems the boys who live there had taken matters into their own hands and were killing the poor things themselves. Our soft-hearted exterminator was upset about this, so time was a-wasting. He reminded us to call him anytime and we assured him, oh, we will. He left with cupcakes.

So my weekend was relatively uneventful. I did go to the Vintage Market Days, “an upscale vintage-inspired outdoor market featuring original art, antiques, clothing, jewelry, handmade treasures, home décor, outdoor furnishings, consumable yummies, seasonal plantings and a little more” with my friend and her two sisters. It took several hours to work our way through the hordes of shoppers that were there and we were pretty exhausted when we finally made our way back to the car. A trip to Steak ‘N Shake afterwards revived us, however.

I spent the rest of the weekend puttering around my house, getting ready for a visit next weekend from daughters # 1 and 2–that is, if the weather allows for travel.

I started watching The Vicar of Dibley–a British sitcom that ran from 1994–2007–on Netflix.

The premise of this show is that a female Anglican priest is called to an old-fashioned congregation and hilarity ensues. As you can imagine, it is right up my alley.

And my question for you this week is: What did we amuse ourselves with before text-messaging?

Enjoy your Monday!

*Just as I am, though tossed about

with many a conflict, many a doubt;

fightings and fears within, without,

O Lamb of God, I come, I come.

–Charlotte Elliott (1989-1971)

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October 8, 2016

“It was sad when the great ship went down”

by chuckofish

Sad in more ways than one. I am feeling my age this week. A classroom full of freshman had never heard of Pete Seeger, and when I started playing them this song, several of them laughed.

It seems that banjos are goofy sounding. My reaction?

But I didn’t rant, I promise.

Still, there is much to celebrate. While son #3 and his girlfriend visited this week, they put up my new dining room drapes.

He’s quite the handyman and did a great job. It’s nice to be able to open the drapes easily and let in some light. I took this next picture on a dark, rainy morning but you’d never guess that.

Yes, there is much to be grateful for. The leaves are turning and the air is crisp and clear.

We took these pictures out at our cabin last weekend. The reds seem extra vibrant this year.

I love autumn, don’t you? It’s time to buy pumpkins, get out winter clothing, and start cooking again. We’re hosting coffee hour at church tomorrow, so I will need to do some baking today. What are your favorite fall baking recipes?

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October 7, 2016

Friday movie pick: saddle up

by chuckofish

Apartment Therapy had a post about 15 Autumnal Movies to Get You in the Mood for Fall. Of course I hadn’t seen a lot of the movies (i.e. all the Harry Potter films) but I thought it was a good idea. I tried to come up with my own list, but my interest flagged and I failed.

However, I am also seeing lists of the twenty best westerns, probably due to the release of the new The Magnificent Seven. This subject interests me, but most of these lists include movies I loathe. This, of course, is just my opinion. Everyone is entitled to their own. But it got me to thinking of what my list of the 20 best westerns would actually include. (By this I mean movies that take place west of the Mississippi and therefore do not include Civil War movies such as The Horse Soldiers.)

My list does not include The Wild Bunch or Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid or anything with Clint Eastwood. I watched Hang ’em High (1968) recently and the only thing in it that I liked was Clint himself,

who is very attractive and worth watching, but the movie itself was terrible and a perfect example of why the genre was ruined. The only Clint Eastwood western I might include would be The Outlaw Josey Wales (1976), but, as you will see, I did not.

Well, here is my list of the 18 best westerns. You won’t be surprised–I have blogged about most of them. They are distinguished by great screenplays that feature outstanding characters, excellent direction and fine acting. Most also boast wonderful cinematography, although a few do not.

Shane (1953) George Stephens

Stagecoach (1939) John Ford

The Man Who Shot Liberty Valance (1962) John Ford

The Searchers (1956) John Ford

My Darling Clementine (1946) John Ford

She Wore a Yellow Ribbon (1949) John Ford

3 Godfathers (1948) John Ford

How the West Was Won (1962) various

Rio Bravo (1957) Howard Hawks

Rio Grande (1950) John Ford

Hombre (1967) Martin Ritt

The Professionals (1966) Richard Brooks

El Dorado (1966) Howard Hawks

The Plainsman (1936) Cecil B. DeMille

The Magnificent Seven (1960) John Sturges

Jeremiah Johnson (1972) Sydney Pollack

Red River (1948) Howard Hawks

Santa Fe Trail (1940) Michael Curtiz

As you can see, I have nothing on my list after 1972. The only western I can think of from those latter days is Silverado (1985), which I enjoyed very much at the time. However, it is an extremely derivative movie. There is nothing original in it. Even the performances seem to me to be impersonations of other actors.

If you ask me, I think television caused the western genre to go downhill fast. Characters became caricatures, plots were repetitive and violence took the place of plot. The genre was further degraded in the fifties when screenwriters tried to address 20th century problems–racial prejudice, McCarthyism, etc–by making them issues in westerns to dreary effect. Nobody seemed to care about authenticity anymore–they just wanted to make a point. Heaven’s Gate (1980)–one of the worst movies ever and the biggest financial debacle in Hollywood history–dealt the final death blow.

What did I forget? There are plenty of westerns which I find highly enjoyable and that deserve some special call-out, but do not rank as “the best”. These would include: Rocky Mountain (1950), Johnny Guitar (1954), The Furies (1950), True Grit (1969), The Cowboys (1972), The Shootist (1976), The Big Country (1958), Monte Walsh (1970), Hondo (1953), Sergeant Rutledge (1960), The Long Riders (1980). And I did not include Lonesome Dove because it is a miniseries made for television and not, therefore, constrained to the 2-3 hour time limit of the others. But it ranks up there as a great western.

Anyway…there are two spots left in my “top 20”, so convince me!

Discuss among yourselves.

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October 6, 2016

“The heavens declare the glory of God; and the firmament sheweth his handywork.”*

by chuckofish

It is that time of year when the Monarch Butterflies appear in flyover country. These pictures are from a friend’s blog. Cool, right?

“Marvelous!” he repeated, looking up at me. “Look! The beauty–but that is nothing–look at the accuracy, the harmony. And so fragile! And so strong! And so exact! This is Nature–the balance of colossal forces. Every star is so–and every blade of grass stands so–and the mighty Kosmos perfect equilibrium produces–this. This wonder; this masterpiece of Nature–the great artist.”

―Joseph Conrad, Lord Jim

Photos by Don Sessions

*Psalm 19:1 (KJV)

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October 5, 2016

“The skeleton of the whale furnishes but little clue to the shape of his fully invested body.”*

by chuckofish

Today is the birthday of Remington Kellogg (October 5, 1892 –May 8, 1969)–a fascinating fellow who was an American naturalist and a director of the United States National Museum. Born and raised in Davenport, Iowa, he attended the University of Kansas where he pursued his lifelong interest in wildlife. From there he went to the University of California–Berkeley. While serving in the Army in France during WWI, Kellogg still found time to collect specimens, which he sent back to Berkeley and the University of Kansas. He was discharged in July 1919 and returned to Berkeley to complete his doctorate, transferring from zoology to study vertebrate paleontology.

In 1928 Kellogg became assistant curator at the United States National Museum and in 1941 became curator. At the museum he devoted time to studying primitive whales from the Eocene and early Oligocene of North America. In 1948 he was appointed director of the Museum and in 1958 was made assistant secretary of the Smithsonian Institution. He was elected to the National Academy of Sciences in 1951.

Whales have been at the heart of Smithsonian research since 1850. It was Museum director Remington Kellogg who wanted a “scientifically accurate” model and pushed for the research to make one.

So a toast to Remington Kellogg (what a great name!) and to Herman Melville while we’re at it.

“Speak, thou vast and venerable head,” muttered Ahab, “which, though ungarnished with a beard, yet here and there lookest hoary with mosses; speak, mighty head, and tell us the secret thing that is in thee. Of all divers, thou hast dived the deepest. That head upon which the upper sun now gleams, has moved amid this world’s foundations. Where unrecorded names and navies rust, and untold hopes and anchors rot; where in her murderous hold this frigate earth is ballasted with bones of millions of the drowned; there, in that awful water-land, there was thy most familiar home. Thou hast been where bell or diver never went; hast slept by many a sailor’s side, where sleepless mothers would give their lives to lay them down. Thou saw’st the locked lovers when leaping from their flaming ship; heart to heart they sank beneath the exulting wave; true to each other, when heaven seemed false to them. Thou saw’st the murdered mate when tossed by pirates from the midnight deck; for hours he fell into the deeper midnight of the insatiate maw; and his murderers still sailed on unharmed — while swift lightnings shivered the neighboring ship that would have borne a righteous husband to outstretched, longing arms. O head! thou hast seen enough to split the planets and make an infidel of Abraham, and not one syllable is thine!

Have a good “hump” day!

*Moby-Dick, Herman Melville

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October 4, 2016

“The race is not always to the swift, nor the battle to the strong, but that’s the way to bet.”

by chuckofish

Today is the birthday of Damon Runyon (October 4, 1880 – December 10, 1946)–American newspaperman and author. He is most remembered today for writing the stories which inspired the broadway musical Guys and Dolls.

Here are some things about him you probably didn’t know:

He was born in Manhattan–but in Manhattan, Kansas. He grew up in Pueblo, Colorado. His father and grandfather were newspaper editors.

In 1898, when still in his teens, Runyon enlisted in the U.S. Army to fight in the Spanish-American War.

He was the Hearst newspapers’ baseball columnist for many years, beginning in 1911, and his knack for spotting the eccentric and the unusual, on the field or in the stands, is credited with revolutionizing the way baseball was covered.

One year, while covering spring training in Texas, he met Pancho Villa in a bar and later accompanied the unsuccessful American expedition into Mexico searching for Villa.

Runyon died in New York City in 1946, at age 66. His body was cremated, and his ashes were illegally scattered from a DC-3 airplane over Broadway by Captain Eddie Rickenbacker. The family plot of Damon Runyon is located at Woodlawn Cemetery in the Bronx.

His stories are still in print and I am going to read them. His gangsters seem much more appealing than our 21st-century ones.

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October 3, 2016

Mustard seeds

by chuckofish

After a hectic week at work, we were faced with a mouse invasion on Friday and I may have shrieked ~~three~~ four times (twice in the middle of a conversation with the former dean of the law school). After calling the maintenance guys, who then called the exterminator, I closed the office and my assistant and I went home. I mean there are limits.

Thus began my weekend.

Luckily good news from Netflix arrived:

I have been waiting for season two! I watched it this weekend and it did not disappoint. I do love Andy and Lance.

I also had fun going to the Best of Missouri Market at the Missouri Botanical Garden with Becky and Carla on Saturday. After driving around looking for a place to park and finally scoring, we found “more than 120 food producers and crafters offering baked goods, fresh and dried flowers, herbs, handcrafted items, baskets, wooden toys, custom jewelry and more” in four big tents. The rain threatened,

but never materialized, so all was well.

I bought a jade plant.

I went to an estate sale after church on Sunday and bought a couple of books and a Christmas present for someone–yes, it’s time to get serious about that. I puttered around and then the boy and daughter #3 came over for dinner.

A good weekend and now it is back to work. Cross your fingers that the mice are gone, gone, gone.

Not so cute in real life.

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October 1, 2016

This and that — Saturday edition

by chuckofish

After an unusually busy week, it’s all fun now as son #3 and his lovely lady are visiting for a few days. They’ve got that North Country vibe down.

Before I rush off to join the fun, I’ll leave you with a few fun facts in honor of October 1st and the official start of Octoberween.

Today is the birthday of ardent collector, Charles Townley, born in 1737. Over the course of a privileged life spent pillaging ancient Roman villas in partnership with the Vatican, Townley amassed a vast personal collection of Greek and Roman sculpture, bronzes and smaller finds. Eventually, the British Museum bought the whole thing from Townley’s heirs for about £20,000 — significantly below its purchase price, but still a lot of money at the time. Earlier, Johann Zoffany painted Charles Townley with some of his more famous items. I have to admit that my favorite part of the painting is the dog lying at its master’s feet.

Famously, the head of this particular copy of Myron’s Discobolus (front left in painting) was restored incorrectly, so that it faces in the wrong direction. It should look like this:

Townley’s collection was so large that the British Museum catalogue had to be two volumes. Besides the Discobolus, the Townley Galleries included the Townley Vase

and the Townley Venus.

Evidently the family wanted to make sure everyone knew who had purchased these objects. Although I don’t approve of the type of wholesale scavenging that went on, or the profligate way Townley threw his money around, at least the objects ended up in the British Museum. Right?

By contrast, here’s an altogether more appealing story from yesterday’s BBC Explorer about humble, Scottish naturalist and explorer, Joseph Thomson (of Thomson’s Gazelle fame).

Born in 1858, Thomson led several expeditions to Africa in the 1870s and 1880s. Living by his favorite adage, “He who goes gently goes safely; he who goes safely goes far”, Thomson became a legend among the Maasai — so much so that one of their elders recently made the pilgrimage to visit Thomson’s birthplace in Scotland. As the BBC tells it, Elder Kakato had wanted to make the trip ever since he was a child and heard stories about the kind Scotsman. Indeed, I agree that “the words of the elders are blessed.”*

Have a wonderful 1st day of October! Just think — we only have to endure this dreadful election stuff for another month. Until then, I’ll stick with my statues and explorers, thank you very much.

*Maasai proverb

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