dual personalities

Tag: Billy Collins

August 12, 2024

Speaking of the plentiful imagery of the world

by chuckofish

How was your weekend? We had beautiful weather–temps in the 70s and 80s–unheard of for August! We tried to optimize time spent outside by going to the winery and also enjoying the first driveway sittin’ in a long time.

Friday evening daughter #1 and I went to church to hear Abram Van Engen talk about his new book on reading poetry.

I enjoyed it very much and am also enjoying reading his book. But then, I enjoy reading poetry. Van Engen contends that poets do what God instructed Adam to do–name creation (Genesis 2:19-20). And when you think about it, that is what poets do–they point things out, they draw our attention to things. I think of Billy Collins’ poem “Litany”:

You are the bread and the knife,
the crystal goblet and the wine.
You are the dew on the morning grass
and the burning wheel of the sun.
You are the white apron of the baker,
and the marsh birds suddenly in flight.

However, you are not the wind in the orchard,
the plums on the counter,
or the house of cards.
And you are certainly not the pine-scented air.
There is just no way that you are the pine-scented air.

It is possible that you are the fish under the bridge,
maybe even the pigeon on the general’s head,
but you are not even close
to being the field of cornflowers at dusk.

And a quick look in the mirror will show
that you are neither the boots in the corner
nor the boat asleep in its boathouse.

It might interest you to know,
speaking of the plentiful imagery of the world,
that I am the sound of rain on the roof.

I also happen to be the shooting star,
the evening paper blowing down an alley
and the basket of chestnuts on the kitchen table.

I am also the moon in the trees
and the blind woman’s tea cup.
But don’t worry, I’m not the bread and the knife.
You are still the bread and the knife.
You will always be the bread and the knife,
not to mention the crystal goblet and—somehow—the wine.

and anything, of course, by Walt Whitman…

After working in the basement for awhile on Saturday morning, we went to our favorite winery in Hillsboro and sat and listened to music and people-watched and drank wine in the sunshine. That is the best way to spend a Saturday afternoon.

On Sunday we went to church. Unbeknowst to us (and everyone else) the man teaching our Sunday School class was sick and so they moved the Children’s Sunday School teacher training into our room, so we ended up attending the training class! It was interesting, but I do not plan to volunteer for that particular ministry.

After church I had lunch with my two best friends and later the boy and his family came over for some Sunday driveway sittin’. No one took any pictures except this one of Lottie with Mr. Smith.

We barbecued hotdogs and ate chips ‘n dip and watermelon, which everyone enjoyed. My philosophy is keep it simple.

And here’s some fun news you can use.

Now that’s a happy map! Have a good week. Read some poetry! Pet a dog. Keep it simple.

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March 17, 2022

My thoughts fly off to a province made of one enormous sky

by chuckofish

Well, leaf blower season officially started this week. That sound is one thing that makes winter not so bad by its absence.

This short word from Sinclair Ferguson is great:

It struck me how right he is about Jesus and how He was willing to pause for the kind of people who don’t think anyone cares or notices them. That is something we could all do more often–just pause and take a moment. Our mother was the kind of person people did not notice or pay attention to. But the rector of the largest Episcopal church in our diocese knew who she was and he had even been to her house. It made a huge difference in the last years of her life. He made a point of knowing everyone in his parish and visiting them at home. I often think of that when clergy complain that they are too busy. He had 1000 members in his church. It was his joy to know them. He knew that was his job. Later he became a bishop and passed into glory years ago and I doubt if he would recognize his church these days. But Sinclair hits the nail on the head.

This is a really important reminder that we should never be scared of a little discomfort. “When the Lord your God brings you into the land he swore to your ancestors Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob that he would give you—a land with large and beautiful cities that you did not build, 11 houses full of every good thing that you did not fill them with, cisterns that you did not dig, and vineyards and olive groves that you did not plant—and when you eat and are satisfied, 12 be careful not to forget the Lord who brought you out of the land of Egypt, out of the place of slavery.” (Deuteronomy 6:10-13)

Today, of course, is St. Patrick’s Day so that means it’s time to watch The Quiet Man (1952)…

…and read a little George Bernard Shaw and Billy Collins.

What scene would I want to be enveloped in

more than this one,

an ordinary night at the kitchen table,

floral wallpaper pressing in,

white cabinets full of glass,

the telephone silent,

a pen tilted back in my hand?

It gives me time to think

about all that is going on outside–

leaves gathering in corners,

lichen greening the high grey rocks,

while over the dunes the world sails on,

huge, ocean-going, history bubbling in its wake.

But beyond this table

there is nothing that I need,

not even a job that would allow me to row to work,

or a coffee-colored Aston Martin DB4

with cracked green leather seats.

No, it’s all here,

the clear ovals of a glass of water,

a small crate of oranges, a book on Stalin,

not to mention the odd snarling fish

in a frame on the wall,

and the way these three candles–

each a different height–

are singing in perfect harmony.

So forgive me

if I lower my head now and listen

to the short bass candle as he takes a solo

while my heart

thrums under my shirt–

frog at the edge of a pond–

and my thoughts fly off to a province

made of one enormous sky

and about a million empty branches.

Take a moment, a pause. Think outside yourself.

The wind blows as it wishes, and you hear the sound of it, but cannot tell where it comes from and where it goes. So it is with everyone who is born of the spirit.

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September 16, 2021

“Speaking of the plentiful imagery of the world”*

by chuckofish

We have had some great weather this week. Sunny, warm and breezy, with low humidity–just great and much appreciated.

Our house has been in total disarray because we had some built-ins installed in our den this week. We had to take apart the audio/visual system so the guys could do it (2 days) and now we have to put it all back. The boy is coming over this morning before work to assist the OM. So. Many. Wires. Remember back in the day when you just plugged in the old television set? Now there is so much more to deal with. Surround sound. Oy.

This is a really good article contrasting two people who died this week (John Shelby Spong and comedian Norm MacDonald) and their different takes on Christianity.

I watched a movie recently (on Amazon Prime) which I can recommend: Mr. Church (2016) starring Eddie Murphy and directed by Bruce Beresford. It’s kind of a tear-jerker, but I enjoyed it.

The really amazing thing about this movie is the fact that, even though it’s about a black man bringing up a white girl, there is no racial conflict in the story. Never once does a white person sneer, look down on or insult Mr. Church. This probably explains why the film didn’t get good reviews. But Eddie Murphy plays it straight and the cast is excellent. (BTW, the trailer includes spoilers.)

And here’s another really good song from Mac Powell’s upcoming album:

Can’t wait til it drops on October 15.

One more thing: I could watch this amazing 3-year old 100 times:

Just a reminder:

The angel fetched Peter out of prison, but it was prayer that fetched the angel.

–Thomas Watson (1620-1686)

*Billy Collins, “Litany”

4 Comments
February 4, 2020

A little fishing village where there are no phones

by chuckofish

The name of the author is the first to go
followed obediently by the title, the plot,
the heartbreaking conclusion, the entire novel
which suddenly becomes one you have never read,
never even heard of,

as if, one by one, the memories you used to harbor
decided to retire to the southern hemisphere of the brain,
to a little fishing village where there are no phones.

Long ago you kissed the names of the nine Muses goodbye
and watched the quadratic equation pack its bag,
and even now as you memorize the order of the planets,

something else is slipping away, a state flower perhaps,
the address of an uncle, the capital of Paraguay.

Whatever it is you are struggling to remember
it is not poised on the tip of your tongue,
not even lurking in some obscure corner of your spleen.

It has floated away down a dark mythological river
whose name begins with an L as far as you can recall,

well on your own way to oblivion where you will join those
who have even forgotten how to swim and how to ride a bicycle.

No wonder you rise in the middle of the night
to look up the date of a famous battle in a book on war.
No wonder the moon in the window seems to have drifted
out of a love poem that you used to know by heart.

–Billy Collins

Older readers will relate to this poem. I certainly do. Billy Collins wrote it when he was 58 and he is still going strong twenty years later, so take heart, right?

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In other news, my vestry retreat went well. It always helps when half the group stops at the Hofbrauhaus in Belleville, Illinois for happy  hour on the way to the retreat. (This is an Episcopal Church vestry after all.)

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I got home in time on Saturday to relax and recover, and on Sunday I got my laundry/ chores/puttering done. But I could definitely have used another day off. The wee babes came over for dinner with their parents and we had a merry time. At one point we were discussing the fact that the governor was in Florida for the Super Bowl and Lottie told me that her Noni and Papa (the other grandparents) were in Florida. I said, yes, I know. There are a lot of people in Florida. She looked at me and repeated what she had said, definitely with a tone.

I am a blockhead.

We did not watch the Super Bowl. Instead, after everyone had gone home, the OM and I watched The Matrix (1999) at the recommendation of the boy. I had never seen it! I enjoyed it, although I cannot say I really understood what was going on most of the time.Screen Shot 2020-02-03 at 1.43.34 PM.pngWell, I am trying to enjoy the warm spell we are experiencing until the next wintry mix assails us on Wednesday. Par for the course in flyover country!

Keep re-reading those books you’ve forgotten.

“We deliberately forget because forgetting is a blessing. On both an emotional level and a spiritual level, forgetting is a natural part of the human experience and a natural function of the human brain. It is a feature, not a bug, one that saves us from being owned by our memories. Can a world that never forgets be a world that truly forgives?”
― Tim Challies, The Next Story: Life and Faith after the Digital Explosion

Painting by Jacob D. Wagner (American, 1852-1898)
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March 22, 2019

“A man oughta do what he thinks is best.”*

by chuckofish

Daughter #1 is driving home today so that she can assist me in babysitting the wee babes tomorrow–an all day assignment. Daughter #3 is in Nashville celebrating her sister’s bachelorette weekend and the boy will be at his store. We’ll survive, but it won’t be easy!

As far as movie picks for the weekend, I have to go with birthday boys William Shatner and Louis L’Amour.

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Think of the possibilities!

We could watch The Brothers Karamazov (1958)…

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…or Hondo (1953)…

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…or a Star Trek marathon…

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…or any number of Sackett movies…

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As for me, I’ll toast Billy Collins, who also celebrates a birthday today.

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“The Chairs That No One Sits In”

You see them on porches and on lawns
down by the lakeside,
usually arranged in pairs implying a couple
who might sit there and look out
at the water or the big shade trees.
The trouble is you never see anyone
sitting in these forlorn chairs
though at one time it must have seemed
a good place to stop and do nothing for a while.
Sometimes there is a little table
between the chairs where no one
is resting a glass or placing a book facedown.
It might be none of my business,
but it might be a good idea one day
for everyone who placed those vacant chairs
on a veranda or a dock to sit down in them
for the sake of remembering
whatever it was they thought deserved
to be viewed from two chairs
side by side with a table in between.
The clouds are high and massive that day.
The woman looks up from her book.
The man takes a sip of his drink.
Then there is nothing but the sound of their looking,
the lapping of lake water, and a call of one bird
then another, cries of joy or warning—
it passes the time to wonder which.

 

Interesting side-note: Jonathan Edwards, the great 18th century minister and philosopher, who died on this date in 1758, is remembered today on the Lutheran Calendar of Saints. He is not included on the calendar of the Episcopal Church. Quite an oversight on our part, I must say.

Have a great weekend. Do what you think is best.

*Hondo Lane

3 Comments