dual personalities

Tag: books

Teach us to number our days*

by chuckofish

Yesterday I spent three hours at the Mini dealer getting my Cooper ready to pass on to DN in a couple of weeks. It is not an unpleasant place to wile away a few hours. Steve, the service “advisor”, checks in from time to time and lets you know how it’s going and that they haven’t forgotten you. The Lounge is well stocked with a fancy coffee machine, water and treats. The TV was set to the Hallmark channel and I had come prepared with my phone and an actual book to read.

I read a good amount of A Day’s Journey by Tim Keesee, which tries to answer the question, “How do you make each day of your brief life count?” Keesee is a Christian and a cancer survivor. I am enjoying it. In each chapter he tells about an encounter with someone who has taught him something about a day well spent. They range from the well-known (Rosario Butterfield, Joni Eareckson Tada) to the unknown. There are a lot of good scripture references and quotes by people I like, such as this poem by Wendell Berry:

Anyway, the key to making a morning at the car dealership a pleasant experience, as with most things, is to be prepared and to have the right mindset. Be prepared to be there longer than expected and you will be pleasantly surprised when they call your name sooner than expected.

So be prepared, read some poetry and don’t forget to have some cash ready when you go to the grocery store and the Salvation Army person is ringing their bell outside the store. Give, give, give. ‘Tis the season.

*Psalm 90:12

“The wind rises… We must try to live!”*

by chuckofish

Today we toast the great, but under-appreciated, writer Conrad Richter, who died on this day in 1968. Isaac Bashevis Singer wrote, “There are in the literature of the world few works of historical fiction that make the reader feel that the writer must have been a witness to what he describes; he was actually there and came back – a transmigrated soul – to tell a story. The Awakening Land is such a work… it would be a great novel in any literature.”

I would heartily concur. Richter wrote short stories and 15 novels. His novel The Town, the last story of his trilogy The Awakening Land about the Ohio frontier, won the 1951 Pulitzer Prize for Fiction. His novel The Waters of Kronos won the 1961 National Book Award for Fiction.

A strange, uneasy feeling ran over him. If he had been wrong about his mother in this, might he by any chance have been wrong in other things about her also? Could it be even faintly possible that the children of pioneers like himself, born under more benign conditions than their parents, hated them because they themselves were weaker, resented it when their parents expected them to be strong, and so invented all kinds of intricate reasoning to prove that their parents were tyrannical and cruel, their beliefs false and obsolete, and their accomplishments trifling? Never had his mother said that. But once long ago he had heard her mention, not in as many words, that the people were too weak to follow God today, that in the Bible God made strong demands on them for perfection, so the younger generation watered God down, made Him impotent and got up all kinds of reasons why they didn’t have to follow Him but could go along their own way.” (The Town)

Like all great fiction, his words still speak to us, even seventy-five years after being published.

Well, as you know, I am a great re-reader, so I will reward myself with some Conrad Richter today.

Yesterday the boy came over and fixed our shutters which have been buffeted around by the wind all year and thus we were beginning to look like that house in the neighborhood that looks like it is decorated for Halloween all year. He also took apart the crib which was taking up a lot of room in our spare bedroom and moved it to the garage. I am so grateful to have adult children who are still speaking to me. This is a blessing not everyone can claim.

So re-read an old book, count your blessings and remember:

The steadfast love of the Lord never ceases;
    his mercies never come to an end;
they are new every morning;
    great is your faithfulness.

(Lamentations 3:22)

*Today is the poet Paul Valéry’s birthday (1871-1945)–“Le vent se lève… il faut tenter de vivre !” Read the whole poem here.

Our strength and refuge

by chuckofish

How was your weekend? Friday I went to lunch with some old friends at my former flyover university faculty club. Then we went back to their house where I boxed up some books to take home. They are getting ready to downsize and that means getting rid of a ton of books. But God only knows where I am going to put more books! Daughter #1 came over to their house and filled a box for herself. I would have taken more, but as I told my friends, I already have a lot of their books.

The rest of the weekend I spent looking at/reading my new-old books. What a pleasure! I also took some old computer monitors over to a nearby recycling event and enjoyed a great sense of accomplishment which I relished all weekend. And daughter #1 and I continued our scientific study of the correct wine-bread ratio…

On Sunday the OM and I picked up the twins to take them to church with us since their parents are very busy getting ready to move. It had been awhile since the twins had been to church so they needed to re-learn some church behavior basics. They did pretty well. The bud drew some interesting pictures…note the devil prominently portrayed in hell…

After church we went home with the twins and the OM picked up lunch at McDonald’s. Then we took a little walk where the bud was able to pet a nice black Lab named Titan, who sniffed his face. Then we played more or less quietly at home while the OM took a nap. Lottie beat me repeatedly at Chutes and Ladders, but the bud told me that winners are losers and losers are winners, so there. And the first shall be last, right?

The boy picked them up mid-afternoon and stayed to chat for awhile, always a treat for me.

I changed my clothes for a third time and we headed back to church at 4:30 for the ordination service of our youth minister. Once again I was overcome with thankfulness that I am a member of this church.

Meanwhile daughter #2 and her family drove up to Lake Huron to spend the week, leaving at five in the morning for the long drive.

I remember those days–leaving before dawn to get a jump on the driving while the kids sleep! (Note both babes are wide awake.)

They are having a good ol’ time.

And not to get political, but this was hilarious.

So put your phone down, look up, and thank God for the day. Then read some old books!

“In writing a novel, when in doubt, have two guys come through the door with guns.”

by chuckofish

Today we celebrate the birthday of the great detective fiction writer Raymond Chandler (1888-1959). He is generally considered to have invented the private detective character and his Philip Marlowe is, indeed, one of the great characters of fiction. Almost all of his novels have been made into movies, none of them, unfortunately, the equal of the original book.

“He was worth looking at. He wore a shaggy borsalino hat, a rough gray sports coat with white golf balls on it for buttons, a brown shirt, a yellow tie, pleated gray flannel slacks and alligator shoes with white explosions on the toes. From his outer breast pocket cascaded a show handkerchief of the same brilliant yellow as his tie. There were a couple of colored feathers tucked into the band of his hat, but he didn’t really need them. Even on Central Avenue, not the quietest dressed street in the world, he looked about as inconspicuous as a tarantula on a slice of angel food.”

–Farewell, My Lovely

In other words, it’s best to read the books. Which I am in the mood to do.

“Then the hand of the Lord was on Elijah, and he girded up his loins and outran Ahab to Jezreel.”*

by chuckofish

The Olympics are coming up and I really don’t care anymore since it is just a bunch of pumped up professionals competing.

However, July 11th marks the 100th anniversary of Eric Liddell winning gold in the 400 meter dash during the Paris Olympics. Here is a short interview with Eric’s daughter, Patricia Liddell Russell, and John MacMillan, Chief Executive of the Eric Liddell Community. I guess it’s time to watch Chariots of Fire (1981) again!

I am also re-reading Unbroken: A World War II Story of Survival, Resilience, and Redemption by Laura Hillenbrand. Louis Zamperini, the subject of the book, ran in the 1936 Olympics on the U.S. track team.

Zamperini is quite an interesting guy and the book is well-worth reading. Angelina Jolie made a pretty good movie about him in 2014, but she left out the “Redemption” part altogether, which is a shame.

Lt. Zamperini was a bombardier on B-24 Liberators in the Pacific. On a search and rescue mission, his plane experienced mechanical difficulties and crashed into the ocean. After drifting at sea on a life raft for 47 days, with two other crew mates, he landed on the then Japanese Marshall Islands and was captured. He was taken to a total of four different POW caps in Japan, where he was tortured and beaten by Japanese military personnel. Following the war, beset with terrible nightmares and afflicted with post-traumatic stress disorder, he struggled with alcoholism. Then he happened to go to a Billy Graham revival and he turned his life over to Jesus. For the rest of his long life he was a devout Presbyterian who worked with youth and as a Christian evangelist. It is quite a story.

So watch an old movie, re-read a good book, run in such a way as you may obtain [the prize].

*I Kings 18:46

For what avail the plough or sail, Or land or life, if freedom fail?

by chuckofish

Happy Independence Day!

We grant no dukedoms to the few,
We hold like rights and shall;-
Equal on Sunday in the pew,
On Monday in the mall.
For what avail the plough or sail,
Or land or life, if freedom fail?

The noble craftsmen we promote,
Disown the knave and fool;
Each honest man shall have his vote,
Each child shall have his school.
A union then of honest men,
Or union nevermore again.

–Ralph Waldo Emerson, from “Boston”–read it here.

Today in St. Louis we are also celebrating the 150th anniversary of the opening of Eads Bridge, a true architectural marvel. It was the first bridge in St. Louis, the first in the world to use steel and the first in the U.S. to use caissons for its piers.

At the time there were many doubters who were concerned about the safety of the structure, but people were reassured two weeks before the grand opening by the sight of an elephant lumbering across the wagon deck. It was an unscientific test, but in the 19th century many people believed elephants knew instinctively not to set foot on unsound structures. (This made me think of that famous scene in Gunga Din (1939) when the elephant is willing to step onto the rickety bridge to follow Cary Grant…)

Needless to say, Eads bridge was sound…

Well then, exactly at daybreak on July 4, 1874 on a clear and sunny day, a thirteen-gun salute was fired to honor the original colonies of the United States. At 9 a.m. 100 guns were fired, fifty on each side of the the Mississippi River, to signal the beginning of a huge parade.

“A link of steel unites the East and West” was painted on one side of the bridge’s main arch. On the other side, decorated with evergreens, appeared a fifty-foot-high portrait of the man of the hour, James B. Eads. A display of fireworks completed the evening festivities.

I hope you all have fun plans to celebrate Independence Day with friends and family. If not, read some Emerson or Whitman, watch an old movie like Yankee Doodle Dandy (1942) or Alleghany Uprising (1939)…

What is the meaning of this intrusion?

…Read Esther Forbes’ fine book Paul Revere and the World He Lived In or Eric Metaxas’ If You Can Keep It: the Forgotten Promise of American Liberty or David McCullough’s 1776.

“The year 1776, celebrated as the birth year of the nation and for the signing of the Declaration of Independence, was for those who carried the fight for independence forward a year of all-too-few victories, of sustained suffering, disease, hunger, desertion, cowardice, disillusionment, defeat, terrible discouragement, and fear, as they would never forget, but also of phenomenal courage and bedrock devotion to country, and that, too they would never forget.”

Be proud. Be loud. Open the windows and blast your neighbors! That’s what we did when I was growing up. We had this LP and this was one of my favorite pieces:

God bless America!

Mid-week musings

by chuckofish

Today we toast the American writer Stephen Crane, who died on this day in 1900 at the age of 28. He wrote poetry and short stories and the famous war novel The Red Badge of Courage.

A river, amber-tinted in the shadow of its banks, purled at the army’s feet; and at night, when the stream had become of a sorrowful blackness, one could see across it the red, eyelike gleam of hostile camp-fires set in the low brows of distant hills.

John Huston made a movie adaption of the novel in 1951 starring Audie Murphy. Although I know a man who just thinks it is the best movie ever, I find that hard to believe, given the star and the director, but I should see it before I judge. I should also read the book again, which I may have read in high school, but I do not remember it clearly. The Civil War scene in How the West Was Won (1962) where George Peppard drinks from the bloody river with the confederate deserter is derivative I’m sure. Anyway, I’ll add that to my list.

Willa Cather wrote this lovely piece –When I Knew Stephen Crane–and sums him up brilliantly. She was a college girl when she was acquainted with him briefly in Lincoln, Nebraska and he opened up to her on a memorable evening.

Men will sometimes reveal themselves to children, or to people whom they think never to see again, more completely than they ever do to their confreres. From the wise we hold back alike our folly and our wisdom, and for the recipients of our deeper confidences we seldom select our equals. The soul has no message for the friends with whom we dine every week. It is silenced by custom and convention, and we play only in the shallows. It selects its listeners willfully, and seemingly delights to waste its best upon the chance wayfarer who meets us in the highway at a fated hour. There are moments too, when the tides run high or very low, when self-revelation is necessary to every man, if it be only to his valet or his gardener. At such a moment, I was with Mr. Crane.

I will also note that Stagecoach (1939) is on TCM tonight. It is always a good time to watch this movie, which is one of the best 96 minutes ever put on film. Stagecoach was nominated for an Academy Award as Best Picture; Thomas Mitchell received an Academy Award for his supporting role as “Doc Boone,” and Richard Hageman, Franke Harling, John Leipold and Leo Shuken received an Academy Award for their score. Stagecoach also made the National Board of Review’s ten best list, and John Ford was honored as best director of 1939 by the New York Film Critics. It catapulted the western genre into the A-film realm. (And, of course, the stunts are out of this world.)

Here’s Viggo Mortensen’s take on Stagecoach:

So read an old book, watch an old movie (again) and praise God from whom all blessings flow!

(The photo is Stephen Crane in Corwin Knapp Linson’s studio on West 22nd Street, Manhattan, c. 1894, when Crane was writing The Red Badge of Courage.)(Syracuse University Libraries via Roger Williams University)

This and that, here and there

by chuckofish

Today marks the 113th anniversary of the first Indianapolis 500 race at the Indianapolis Motor Speedway. Ray Harmon was the first winner of the 500-mile auto race in his Marmon Wasp.

I will toast Harmon and his Wasp with an orange soda and the wee bud, who, as you know, loves all things with four wheels and a motor.

It is also the birthday of film director Howard Hawks, born in 1898 in Goshen, Indiana. I appreciate him more and more as the years go by. As Orson Welles once said in an interview with Peter Bogdanovich, “Hawks is great prose; [John] Ford is poetry.” I think that is a good assessment. Anyway, I will watch one of his many great movies tonight. Maybe Air Force (1943) since I have been on a WWII kick since Memorial Day.

Meanwhile the new Longmire book arrived on Tuesday and I am happily catching up with Walt and Henry…

Katie and Ida are hanging out on the deck…

…and the bud is playing it cool on the driveway…

And Anne hits the nail on the head several times in this one.

Here’s to the last day of school! Hang in there! God is in control!

Like a cedar in Lebanon*

by chuckofish

Today is the first day of my 50th high school reunion extravaganza. Please pray for me. I am going to two of the five planned events/get-togethers. And my two oldest BFFs are coming over for lunch on Saturday. Also our church Pig Roast is being held later that day…so it will be a busy weekend!

This bit from Amor Towles’ new novella Eve in Hollywood seems apropos:

Taking a deep breath, Prentice steeled his resolve and began making his way through the crowd toward his host.

It was a humbling journey. A gauntlet composed of every sort of slight. First there was the director of light romances who turned his body just enough to make a casual encounter with Prentice less likely. Then the actress who hadn’t worked since the advent of talkies, who waved at Prentice enthusiastically. Then the writer of droll comedies who nudged a fellow scribbler in order to make a wry remark resulting in an audible guffaw. While scattered throughout were starlets whose eyes barely settled on Prentice at all, recognizing instinctively from the way the others treated him that he was not a man of consequence.

Well, so be it. For that which humbles our sense of vanity prepares us to face that which insults our sense of honor!

Today is also the National Day of Prayer. Following a challenge by Billy Graham, the spring observance was established by President Harry Truman  in 1952. Get praying, y’all.

I have to say: thank goodness for Florida. The University of Florida released a memo to students late last week outlining what conduct was unacceptable and the consequences that protesters would face if they chose to violate school policy. “This is not complicated: The University of Florida is not a daycare, and we do not treat protesters like children — they knew the rules, they broke the rules, and they’ll face the consequences,” the school said. Local media reported that nine individuals were arrested on campus by the university’s police department and the Florida Highway Patrol. Would that other universities and college administrators could be so direct and follow through so mindfully.

But this. Please.

And here is John Piper’s counsel for godly parenting. Really good advice.

*The righteous shall flourish like a palm tree,
He shall grow like a cedar in Lebanon.
13 Those who are planted in the house of the Lord
Shall flourish in the courts of our God.
14 They shall still bear fruit in old age;
They shall be fresh and flourishing,
15 To declare that the Lord is upright;
He is my rock, and there is no unrighteousness in Him.

–Psalm 92: 12-15

Every passion borders on the chaotic, but the collector’s passion borders on the chaos of memories*

by chuckofish

Hello from daughter #2! I am checking in today to share a bit from our new home in the midwest. We have been here for nearly 3 months, and I think that is fairly represented in the state of our unpacking. We have been entirely functional for quite some time, we have purchased a few vintage/antique “scores” for new spaces we have in this house, and we have hung up some artwork — albeit, mostly in existing holes in the walls. The basement, however, is still hiding dozens of half-packed boxes.

One of the biggest undertakings has been the gargantuan task of unpacking our book collection. DN and I had lived in two apartments and a house together before moving to this home, which means we have packed and unpacked (or stored) books numerous times. DN brought boxes that had been packed for 10 years!

“I am unpacking my library. Yes, I am. The books are not yet on the shelves, not yet touched by the mild boredom of order. . . .I must ask you to join me in the disorder of crates that have been wrenched open, the air saturated with the dust of wood, the floor covered with torn paper, to join me among piles of volumes that are seeing daylight again after two years of darkness, so that you may be ready to share with a bit of the mood–it is certainly not an elegiac mood but, rather, one of anticipation–which these books arouse in the genuine collector.”

Walter Benjamin, “Unpacking My Library”

Yes, there was a satisfying anticipation to seeing the collection spread out all together on our dining room floor — I was happy to remember all that we have, and consider how we might sort things, and arrange them in various places, and decide what I might re-read next. The project also revealed, in a satisfying way, all that could be sorted out of the collection: mostly those books I never liked in the first place, but held onto for some feeling of what I should have or might need as a “literary scholar.” How freeing to simply keep the books I like!

Fun fact: all these years collecting together account for five copies of Mrs. Dalloway and six copies of Moby-Dick, none of which we would really consider giving away. There’s the first copy of Moby-Dick I ever read, the copy I purchased in Ireland to re-read, the copy I gave to DN the first Christmas after I met him, at least one desk copy, a new Norton Critical Edition that was sent to me, and a Rockwell Kent illustrated edition that my mother gave me. I recall once babysitting children at their grandparents’ house, where the man had an entire (full) bookcase dedicated to editions of Moby-Dick. He also had a pond with koi named Moby and Dick. Oh, how I can now relate!

This project is not yet complete, but it is satisfying to see the built-in bookshelves in our family room nearly full with books (and yes, a few toys).

*Walter Benjamin, from the same essay