dual personalities

Well, as you know, I finished Lonesome Dove. I will note that at the end of the book when Captain Call is hauling Gus’s body thousands of miles to be buried in Texas, he detours into Colorado and crosses the Picketwire River into the neighborhood of my ancestor John W. Prowers. Call runs into Charles Goodnight and has a conversation with him. (Goodnight was a real-life business partner for awhile of Prowers.) It has been suggested that the character Captain Call is based on Goodnight, who hailed from Macoupin County, IL.

All of which is to say that there is only six degrees of separation between us and (even) fictional characters!

Now I have moved on to several different things.

First, I finished The Gates Ajar by Elizabeth Stuart Phelps, a “spiritualist” novel of the mid-nineteenth century, which daughter #2 recommended and I started in Florida. (I had to order my own copy when I got home!) Immensely popular when it was published in 1868, it appealed to a population exhausted by the personal losses of the Civil War. Eighty thousand copies were sold in America by 1900; 100,000 were sold in England during the same time period. Basically it is a dialogue about the afterlife between the two female protagonists. I enjoyed it very much and found it easy to read (not stilted) and the characters real and easily relatable. The subject matter is one that still appeals to twenty-first-century readers–look at the popularity of Heaven is for Real: A Little Boy’s Astounding Story of His Trip to Heaven and Back by Todd Burpo in 2010. The Gates Ajar is a much better book, and the author takes great pains to site scripture to back up her theories.

I started re-reading The Tin Can Tree by Anne Tyler, her second and one of her lesser-known books, published in 1965 when she was only twenty-four. Like all Anne Tyler books, it is deceptively simple and an excellent read (and shorter than most of her other novels).

Next up is The Handsome Man’s Deluxe Cafe by Alexander McCall Smith and another Larry McMurtry which I got on eBay. I am also working on my Jackson County, Missouri research.

What are you reading?

FYI today is the birthday (1948) of S.E. Hinton! So “Stay gold, Ponyboy. Stay gold.”

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July 21, 2015

One thing I don’t worry about

by chuckofish

“Don’t you ever get the feeling that all your life is going by and you’re not taking advantage of it? Do you realize you’ve lived nearly half the time you have to live already?”
“Yes, every once in a while.”
“Do you know that in about thirty- five more years we’ll be dead?”
“What the hell, Robert,” I said. “What the hell.”
“I’m serious.”
“It’s one thing I don’t worry about,” I said.
“You ought to.”
“I’ve had plenty to worry about one time or other. I’m through worrying.”
“Well, I want to go to South America.”
“Listen, Robert, going to another country doesn’t make any difference. I’ve tried all that. You can’t get away from yourself by moving from one place to another. There’s nothing to that.”
“But you’ve never been to South America.”
“South America hell! If you went there the way you feel now it would be exactly the same. This is a good town. Why don’t you start living your life in Paris?”

Ernest Hemingway, The Sun Also Rises

Ernest Miller Hemingway (July 21, 1899 – July 2, 1961), American author and journalist, was born on this day 116 years ago in Oak Park, Illinois.

This flyover son sometimes reminds me of another midwestern fisherman.

Don’t you think?

I haven’t read any Hemingway for quite a while. Perhaps it is time to dust something off. Needless to say, it is definitely time to toast old Ernesto.

And did you read this? I think ABInBev should sue!

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July 20, 2015

“All goes onward and outward—nothing collapses”*

by chuckofish

We experienced some highs and lows this past weekend.

Mamu died last Friday. She was the boy’s grandmother-in-law.

I knew her a long time, since the boy was three years old in pre-school with her grand-daughter. I remember her clearly back then, because she frequently picked Lauren up from pre-school. She stood out among the other mothers in the carpool line. She drove a Jaguar then and was always dressed to the nines–usually in a cocktail suit and high heels, elegantly bejeweled, her blonde hair perfectly coiffed.

But she was no Joan Collins. She was friendly and thrilled to be the designated driver of her adorable three-year-old grand-daughter.

She and her husband were the most glamorous couple at our church. And probably the most devout. Indeed, there was a lot more to Mamu than her glittering facade let on. She was from Indiana, after all, and her people were solid folk.

I wish she had known my mother. Although very different in some ways, they shared a deep and abiding faith and I know they would have liked each other.

Anyway, I have no doubt that she is with Dick now, standing before the Throne.

Into paradise may the angels lead thee; and at thy coming may the martyrs receive thee, and bring thee into the holy city Jerusalem.

2012 The boy on his wedding day with Mamu who loved him.

On the other side of things, the boy’s best man was in town and we had a mini celebration at church in honor of his going off to seminary next month.

The boy, the future minister and Weezer–still in the choir.

It was a very special occasion–his friends and family, everyone in his church family who have known him forever, surrounded him before the altar and there were prayers and some laying on of hands, etc.

Afterwards there was cake!

Godspeed, indeed, to Michael as he begins his studies at Yale. And Godspeed to dear Mamu on the next phase of her journey.

The circle of life.

Grant us wisdom, grant us courage,

for the living of these days, for the living of these days.

–Harry Emerson Fosdick

*Walt Whitman, Leaves of Grass #14

6 Comments

July 18, 2015

“Oh, ’tis not my qualities they object to! ‘Tis my lack of vice.” *

by chuckofish

Recent unwelcome contact with a fuel tanker having left me feeling somewhat delicate (not to mention bruised), I naturally turned to comfort literature and movies to restore my optimistic view of life. Shirley Temple provided the perfect antidote on the movie side. On my dual personality’s advice, I bought “Little Miss Marker” and, boy, did it deliver. Shirley is amazing in that movie.

I also really liked all the supporting cast, especially Adolphe Menjou. Anyway, if you haven’t seen it, do!

As for reading, I returned to one of my mother’s old favorites, Georgette Heyer, author of a vast number of intelligent, well-researched Regency romances and mysteries. Born in England in 1902, Ms. Heyer began writing to amuse her younger brother and eventually became a hugely successful author, though of course the critics ignored her almost completely.

She, herself, harbored few illusions about her career: “I think myself I ought to be shot for writing such nonsense…. But it’s unquestionably good escapist literature and I think I should rather like it if I were sitting in an air-raid shelter or recovering from flu.” Yes, indeed. Her books are witty, informative, and wonderfully devoid of sex, violence, and serious drama. Hence, you see, perfect for those of us who need an escape from modern life. The book I’ve been enjoying, Devil’s Cub, made me laugh out loud several times. Surely, any mother could relate to this:

“You will like her,” he persisted. “Egad, she’s after your own heart, maman! She shot me in the arm.”
“Voyons, do you think that is what I like?”

Then there are witty dialogues like this:

“M’sieur, I am as a slave to my wife.” He kissed the tips of his fingers. “I am as the dirt beneath her feet.” He clasped his hands. “I must bestow on her all that she desires, or die!”

“Pray make use of my sword, ” invited his Grace. “It is in the corner behind you.”

Her books are civilized, historically accurate, and full of delightful characters, who have actual depth. Take, for example, this descriptions: “A certain cynicism, born of the life she has led; a streak of strange wisdom; the wistfulness behind the gaiety; sometimes fear; and nearly always the memory of loneliness that hurts the soul.” No need to feel ashamed of reading Ms. Heyer. Many of her books are still in print. I highly recommend her. Some of her books are available on CD and they are very diverting on long car trips!

Have a witty, civilized weekend!

*Georgette Heyer, Powder and Patch — I think it would make a good epitaph for Mitt Romney 🙂

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July 17, 2015

For he’s a jolly good fellow 2015

by chuckofish

Not a mug shot

Well, the OM turns the Big 6-0 today. Booyah. He probably still has that seersucker suit (above) and it probably still fits him.

His daughters sent him cards.

Inside: And by stud I mean dork

and

As you may infer from the choice of cards, the OM is not a party dude, so we will have a quiet celebration. It will involve eating with the boy and daughter #3 in some restaurant where the OM can order a pork steak, a flyover delicacy (?). Hopefully there will be a margarita for me in the bargain.

There is…this consolation to the most way-worn traveler, upon the dustiest road, that the path his feet describe is so perfectly symbolical of human life,–now climbing the hills, now descending into the vales. From the summits he beholds the heavens and the horizon, from the vales he looks up to the heights again. He is treading his old lessons still, and though he may be very weary and travel-worn, it is yet sincere experience.

Henry David Thoreau, A Walk to Wachusett

6 Comments

July 16, 2015

“Le biologiste passe, la grenouille reste.”*

by chuckofish

Hans Hoffmann, Frog

Do you know the difference between a toad and a frog?

According to my Old Farmer’s Almanac calendar, a toad has a wide body, short hind legs for low-to-the-ground hopping, and a bumpy, dry skin. It lives on dry land.

E.H. Shepard, “Mr. Toad”– The Wind in the Willows

A frog has a narrow body, long hind legs adapted for leaping and swimming, and a smooth or slimy skin. It lives near water.

So you learned something new today–or at least were reminded of something. Something scientific. That’s about as scientific as I get.

* “The biologist passes, the frog remains.” (Jean Rostand)

2 Comments

July 15, 2015

Till hill and valley gaily, gaily ring

by chuckofish

Back on July 2 I failed to note that “three prophetic witnesses” were recognized with a feast day on the Episcopal calendar. They are Walter Rauschenbusch, Washington Gladden and Jacob Riis.

Washington Gladden (February 11, 1836 – July 2, 1918) you will recall, was a Congregational minister and early leader in the Social Gospel movement, whose ministry “was dedicated to the realization of the Kingdom of God in this world. Gladden was the acting religious editor of the New York Independent, in which he exposed corruption in the New York political system. Gladden was the first American clergyman to approve of and support labor unions. In his capacity as Vice President of the American Missionary Association, he traveled to Atlanta where he met W.E.B. Dubois and he became an early opponent of segregation.” (Standing Commission on Liturgy and Music)

He was also a graduate of Williams College, class of 1859.

While at Williams, Gladden wrote its alma mater song, “The Mountains.”

“I had been wishing that I might write a song which could be sung at some of our exhibitions,” wrote Gladden in his memoirs, “and one winter morning, walking down Bee Hill, the lilt of the chorus of “The Mountains” came to me. I had a little music-paper in my room in the village, and on my arrival I wrote down the notes. Then I cast about for words to fit them, and the refrain ‘The Mountains, the Mountains!’ suggested itself. I wrote the melody of the stanza next and fitted the verses to it. . . . That it would . . . become the accepted College Song, I could not, of course, have imagined.”

The Mountains

O, proudly rise the monarchs of our mountain land,
With their kingly forest robes, to the sky,
Where Alma Mater dwelleth with her chosen band,
And the peaceful river floweth gently by.

CHORUS
The mountains! the mountains! we greet them with a song,
Whose echoes rebounding their woodland heights along,
Shall mingle with anthems that winds and fountains sing.
Till hill and valley gaily, gaily ring.

Beneath their peaceful shadows may old Williams stand,
Till suns and mountains nevermore shall be,
The glory and the honor of our mountain land,
And the dwelling of the gallant and the free.

I have fond memories of singing this rousing song while a student there in the mid-1970s. Check it out:

Have a great Wednesday!

3 Comments

July 14, 2015

“I’m a thousand miles from nowhere Time don’t matter to me”*

by chuckofish

Our family has been in this country for nearly 400 years and the genealogy of some branches is quite well documented. We have some holes, however–especially those ancestors who pioneered west of the Alleghenies–and my dual personality and I are continually working on filling in those blanks.

The other day I was messing around on the internet and I found the location of my great-great-great-grandmother’s grave in Westport, MO. I found this by purposefully mis-spelling her husband’s name. Bingo.

SUSAN VOGEL BORN OCT. 1, 1819 DIED FEB. 24, 1853

Find a Grave photo

I also found this “marriage certificate”

which has three (!) spelling errors: Susan Prowers, Louis Vogel and the minister’s name, which is spelled Johnston Lykins. Louis Vogel was Susan’s second husband. She married him after her first husband, John Prowers, died in 1839. She already had two children under the age of two, John Wesley Prowers and Mary A. Prowers (my great-great-grandmother). She subsequently had three more children with Louis Vogel. Frequently all five children are listed on census lists and such under the name Vogel, but both Prowers children kept their father’s name and were proud of it.

Anyway, looking further, a whole new window opened. I found out that Susan’s maiden name was Matney and that her father William hailed from Washington County, Virginia. His father was born in Scotland.

William Matney married Sarah Yoachum from Jefferson County, Tennessee in 1809. (I always knew I had a claim to eastern Tennessee!) She was the daughter of Solomon Yoakum (Note spelling!) and Susannah Adams. Yoachum, by the way, can be spelled Yoakum, Yokum, Yocum, Yoakam, Joachim…zut alors!

They moved on to Arkansas, ultimately settling in Jackson County, MO where they had many children. This really puts a new spin on things. I had always thought that Susan and John Prowers moved together from Virginia to Westport, MO. Thus, when he died suddenly, he left her alone with two very small children. However, this does not seem to be the case. It would appear that she had parents and a large extended family.

Anyway, such break-throughs are very exciting to family historians. I plan to go and check out the Union Cemetery in KC soon.

*Dwight Yoakam–distant cousin

6 Comments

July 12, 2015

“I hate a man that talks rude. I won’t tolerate it.”*

by chuckofish

It was hot and humid here this weekend–normal for flyover country–but we managed to get out and about nevertheless.

I went to an estate sale and visited my favorite “antique” mall. I didn’t find anything except a copy of the “Charleston Receipts” cookbook by the Junior League of Charleston, 1950. Can’t wait to try some Huguenot Torte! I also received a package from Furbish–a gift to myself to remind me of my lovely time in Florida.

On Sunday the OM accompanied me to the Missouri History Museum

where we viewed the “A Walk in 1875 St. Louis” exhibit.

I enjoyed it, although it was a bit cartoon-y, as many (if not most) museum exhibits seem to be these days. They cater to what they imagine the public will enjoy/understand. All very well and good, but we were in and out of there in half an hour. We stopped at the gift shop to buy a cool map of St. Louis in the good old days and then headed over to one of my favorite restaurants, Cafe Osage, in the Central West End.

My phone battery was about to give out, so I couldn’t take a picture of my yummo “breakfast wrap”, but you can take my word for it, it was delish. The OM had never been there, and although he thought the neighborhood was sketch-tastic, he enjoyed his lunch. He felt like such a hipster.

I continued to read Lonesome Dove and am far past the point where I am already depressed that the book will end and I will have to say goodbye to Call and McCrae. I have mentioned before that they are both favorite fictional characters of mine, right up there with Philip Marlowe and Holden Caulfield. But the thing is, there are so many great characters in this book: from Wilbarger, the cattleman and Yale graduate, to the wild girl Janey and all the cowboys. I will miss them all. Now that’s a great book.

I remember trying to get my mother to read it back in 1987 and she didn’t. Go now, and read it!

Happy Monday!

*Captain Call, Lonesome Dove

2 Comments

July 11, 2015

Let’s do Lunch

by chuckofish

Did you know that when it’s 8:52 pm in my little North Country town, the light is the same as when it’s noon on Pluto? On Pluto, you would have your lunch in a sort of eerie twilight and this is what it would look like:

This is also what our new car, Calvin, looks like. He’s a Honda CRV. The name seemed to capture his spirit, which I take to be a cross between the gravitas of John Calvin and the playful wit of Calvin and Hobbes. Alas, Maureen met a bad end, sandwiched between a fuel tanker and the car that rear-ended her into it. Maureen was a great car and saved our lives. We are fine, but decided that the wise choice would be to go for a bigger replacement. And I do feel safer. I really like the color, too.

Aside from the car purchase and the discovery of the odd astronomical tidbit, we mostly took it easy this week, nursing our bumps and bruises and drinking copious amounts of tea. I also watched Shirley Temple in “Curly Top” — Shirley is just the ticket after a near-death experience. Seriously, watch her sing “Animal Crackers in my Soup”.

In other news, we had a visit from our local arborist, who brought light to our little yard and made it possible to mow the lawn without getting smacked in the head by low-lying branches.

Maybe now the squirrels will have a harder time getting onto our roof where they run around in army boots and sound like an alien invasion (probably from Pluto).

Ah, it’s the small things in life… take time to appreciate them and don’t take anything for granted.

Have a great weekend!

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