Yesterday at Grace we had a Lessons and Carols with Holy Eucharist for Epiphany service complete with three little boys decked out in glittery kingly garb bringing gifts for the Christ child (see picture above sans boys). The only problem was, as usual, no one had bothered to tell the assigned lay readers that there was a change in the service which would affect them. I was a lay reader and this annoyed me, which in turn made me feel like a grumpy old lady, which contrary to popular opinion, I do not enjoy.
Once I recovered from my initial consternation, however, I was able to enjoy the service, which is a treat reserved, I guess, for when Epiphany actually lands on a Sunday. Anyway, it included the singing of many of my favorite hymns: We Three Kings, In the Bleak Midwinter, As With Gladness Men of Old, and The First Nowell. Also the wee bairns in the training choir sang and they are always adorable.
I was the first reader and read the first lesson:
I love being a lay reader, because I love the scripture. This is what keeps me going to church despite constant reservations and disagreements with all forms of organized religion. Also it was good to go to church on Epiphany and be reminded that epiphanies happen every day. Our task is not to MISS them!
It was also a great lead in to watching 3 Godfathers (finally).
This movie never disappoints. I was also reminded of the time back in the day when daughter #1 and the boy were shepherds in the “Christmas in St. Louis” parade. They rode on the float with Mary, Joseph and the baby Jesus and some sheep. That year there were also three wise men on real camels! One of the kings was our new daughter-in-law’s grandfather who was right out of central casting in the part of king/wise man. I wish I had a picture of him on his camel, but I’ll have to make due with this one of my children.
Little did that King on a camel know that his granddaughter would marry that little shepherd one day. Well, wise man or shepherd, we try to do our part.
Did I mention that we got a lot of great DVDs for Christmas? Well, we did. This should not be surprising to our readers.
When I was growing up Christmas was about exchanging books and records (LPs–remember?) Many jokes were made about those oddly shaped packages–was it a coloring book?! Oh, hahaha. Later CDs took the place of LPs and lately there haven’t been many of either, what with iPods and downloading to iTunes.
This year daughter #2 gave me an actual CD–The Lumineers–and it was a big hit! I have listened to it non-stop in my car. (Yes, I am an old-fashioned girl. I still listen to CDs in my car.)
Anyway, it is good to have a new bunch of DVDs from which to choose. When daughter #2 leaves this weekend for the east coast, I will have some solace to fall back upon. (Unfortunately, some of those DVDs are hers so they will be going with her.) Sigh.
I was busy last week and failed to notice that Harry Carey, Jr. had died on December 27. He was 91 and had lived a long, full life.
Rio Grande (1950)
Henry George “Dobe” Carey, Jr. (May 16, 1921 – December 27, 2012) appeared in over 90 films as well as numerous television series. Born in Saugus, California, he was the son of respected actor Harry Carey (1878–1947) and actress Olive Carey (1896–1988). As a boy, he was nicknamed “Dobe”, short for adobe, because of the color of his hair. He served with the United States Navy during World War II.
One of my pet peeves, as you may know, is Hollywood being such a nepotiz-town. There are way too many sons, daughters, nieces and nephews in the business, if you ask me. If they weeded out all the Ben Stillers and Drew Barrymores out there…well, I’ll end this rant now before I really get going. Sorry. But clearly Harry Carey, Jr. was an actor who owed his career to his father whose famous friends like John Ford were willing to insert his son into their movies. In this case, however, Junior seemed satisfied with being a character in the background. He excelled as a character actor in such movies as Rio Grande, where he was priceless teamed with Ben Johnson. When he did get a part with featured billing, he rose to the occasion, as in 3 Godfathers, where he played the guileless Abilene Kid admirably. He is also excellent in The Searchers as the clueless young man who elicits the wrath of Ethan Edwards.
Carey made eleven films with John Wayne and at least nine with John Ford– awesome career accomplishments in themselves! He also played ranch counselor Bill Burnett in the popular Disney serial Spin and Marty and an assortment of grizzled types in his later career which lasted through the 1990s.
I did not get a chance to watch 3 Godfathers over the holidays, so I think I will watch it now in honor of Harry Carey, Jr. Vaya con Dios, amigo!
I have to add that for years we have kidded my husband about being Harry Carey, Jr’s doppelganger (see top picture). But, oh my, what does the future hold?
The airport at this time of year is a fun place to people watch. There are lots of happy people picking up college students and relatives etc. There are people with balloons!
Daughter #2 arrived on time and toting a 50-lb. suitcase. Yikes. We moved on, as is our custom, to Hacienda and margaritas.
The boy came over and put the tree up in its stand (step 1) so that the branches could come down before decorating it the next day.
The tree, although there was an alarming amount of needles on the floor (zut alors!), turned out to be quite satisfactory.
I finally watched Miracle on 34th Street (1947) and A Christmas Story (1983).
I am looking forward to watching more Xmas flicks this week and another trip to the airport to pick up daughter #1 on Thursday. In the meantime…
There is a lot to do (and none of it includes going to a mall) in December.
I am reading a little poetry:
Heap on more wood!–the wind is chill;
But let it whistle as it will,
We’ll keep our Christmas merry still.
(Sir Walter Scott, from “Marmion”)
Doing a little cross stitch.
Looking at the tree (again).
Enjoying the decorations that I’ve taken such care to arrange.
Reading a really good book: The Pied Piper written in 1942 by Nevil Shute. This is a riveting story about an old Englishman who agrees to take two children out of France in 1940 as the Nazis are invading and ends up with a whole passel of children. Good stuff.
Getting the house ready for daughters #1 and #2 who will arrive in the next week.
But I still need to watch all my favorite Christmas movies. Time is running out! So far, unbelievably, I have watched nary a one. I have been thwarted a couple of times. I am hoping to lasso the boy into watching one of my most favorite with me: Three Godfathers. And I still need to watch old #1 (in VistaVision):
I also need to drive around and look at all the (oh so) tasteful light displays there are in this flyover town:
What the heck?!
And, of course, trying to focus on the real reason for the season.
The glory of the Lord shall be revealed, and all flesh shall see it together. Isaiah 40:5
We went three and four afternoons a week, sat on folding chairs in the darkened hut which served as a theatre, and it was there, that summer of 1943 while the hot wind blew outside, that I first saw John Wayne. Saw the walk, heard the voice. Heard him tell the girl in a picture called War of the Wildcats that he would build her a house, ‘at the bend in the river where the cottonwoods grow’.
As it happened I did not grow up to be the kind of woman who is the heroine in a Western, and although the men I have known have had many virtues and have taken me to live in many places I have come to love, they have never been John Wayne, and they have never taken me to that bend in the river where the cottonwoods grow. Deep in that part of my heart where the artificial rain forever falls, that is still the line I wait to hear.
Bloggers are fond of featuring gift ideas ‘n such at this time of year. I will desist from compiling a guide of that type, but I do want to point this out:
A literary map of the U.S.A.! (available here) Really, some people are just so clever!
I have yet to blog about any Christmas movies, and last night I had planned to watch (the original, of course) Miracle on 34th Street (1947), starring Maureen O’Hara, John Payne, Edmund Gwen, and little Natalie Wood.
I was inspired after daughters #1 and #2 blogged about this year’s Macy’s parade balloons which they saw up-close and personal this year.
But, lo and behold, the movie was missing from my stash of Christmas movies! Everything else was there on the shelf, but no 1947 Miracle on 34th Street! Really, this is just the worst, isn’t it? When you’re all set to watch something and someone has borrowed it and not returned it! Grrrrr. This put me in a very grumpy mood.
Well, back to the drawing board.
Did you know that there is a Richard Scarry tumblr? Well, there is. It’s called Busy, Busy World, what else?
I have been a Richard Scarry fan for a very long time. I was still getting Richard Scarry books for Christmas well into high school. Yes, indeed, I was. Instant cheer up.
The birthday yesterday of Gerard Butler and my recommendation of Dear Frankie got me thinking about movies that make me cry and the benefits of said cry.
The complexities of the human body are varied and innumerable. We all know that lacrimation can have cathartic effects. Science has proven this. When we cry, we actually excrete toxins. Additionally, it protects the body from high levels of stress hormones and has also been linked to the release of endorphins. Because endorphins numb pain and improve mood, this is another reason why crying tends to make us feel better. These mental effects of crying are also reflected in the altered physical state it results in. Generally after crying, our breathing, sweating, and heart rate decrease, and we enter a more relaxed state. Therefore, a good cry (every once in a while) is a good thing.
So, without further ado, I will give you a list of my favorite movies that are guaranteed to make you cry time and time again. (First, as a disclaimer, let me say that I was probably the only teenager in 1970 who did not shed a tear at Love Story, and generally speaking, movies of the tear-jerker variety leave me cold.)
1. To Kill a Mockingbird (1962) The music by the great Elmer Bernstein is killer. I dare you to watch this scene where Scout says hey to Boo Radley behind the bedroom door and not cry. I double dog-dare you. (It cuts off too soon, but you get the idea.)
2. Wee Willie Winkie (1937), directed by John Ford and starring Shirley Temple. When she sings Auld Lang Syne to the dying Victor McLaglen even my teenage brother broke down.
3. Fried Green Tomatoes (1991) from the book by Fannie Flagg is all about the meaning of family. The music by Thomas Newman, son of the awesome Alfred Newman, is a stab to the heart every time.
4. Breakfast at Tiffany’s (1961), although a funny movie, always makes me sad. The music by Henry Mancini is key–Moon River–c’mon. Audrey, George and Cat in the rain, the music swells, sobbing ensues. I should also add that pretty much any time Audrey Hepburn tears up in a movie, so do I. I really do feel her pain. (Think Roman Holiday.)
5. How Green Was My Valley (1941), another film directed by John Ford to great manipulative effect. The music by Alfred Newman is so sad. Indeed, John Ford knew how to use music to its optimal effect. Not all great directors do. (For instance, John Huston invariably comes close to ruining his movies with terrible or inappropriate music–e.g.The Treasure of the Sierra Madre.) There are a lot of wonderfully sad moments in Ford films, many featuring Henry Fonda, who teamed with the director for his best movies, notably Young Mr. Lincoln, The Grapes of Wrath, My Darling Clementine, etc.–all with the aforementioned throat-tightening scenes.
6. Steel Magnolias (1989)–granted it’s the exception to my tear-jerker/soap opera rule, but it’s sure to cause major Kleenex usage. The scene in the cemetery with Sally Field never fails. (And Dolly Parton co-stars!)
7. The King and I (1956)–oh yes. The first time I saw this (when I was about 8), I could not believe the ending of the movie. Pure disbelief. It still stings every time.
8. Shane (1953) “Shane, come back!” Need I say more? There are other scenes in Shane that are sad (if not tear-inducing) as well–such as Stonewall’s funeral where they sing Rock of Ages. There is the scene where Shane walks out in the rain and the one where Joey tells his mother that he loves Shane. Well, you get the picture.
9. The Best Years of Our Lives (1946)–the great post-war film directed by William Wyler with an unsentimental screenplay by Robert Emmet Sherwood from a story by Mackinlay Kantor rises above the maudlin and soars, helped by a really good musical score by Hugo Friedhofer. So well done. So many great scenes.
10. Edward Scissorhands (1990), directed by Tim Burton and starring Johnny Depp and Vincent Price in his last movie. The music by Danny Elfman is perfect and so is Johnny. In different ‘hands’ this movie would have been frightful, but it is sweet and innocent and sad.
I know. I know. I haven’t mentioned Cool Hand Luke (1967) or Awakenings (1990) or Life is Beautiful (1997) orThe Shawshank Redemption (1994) or The Elephant Man (1980) or The Bicycle Thief (1948) or, find me in the right mood, Scott of the Antarctic (1948), but I had to draw the line somewhere!
What movies have I forgotten? Which ones make you cry?
Gerard Butler (born 13 November 1969) is a Scottish actor who has appeared in an unusually varied array of films, most of them pretty bad. If he weren’t so darn good looking, I wouldn’t have suffered through half of them.
That may sound harsh, but really, think about it. Have you seen Lara Croft Tomb Raider, The Phantom of the Opera, 300, P.S. I Love You, Nim’s Island…the list goes on and on. I did like Machine Gun Preacher , and The Game of Their Lives was shot in St. Louis and was about a (true) St. Louis story, so it was bearable.
However, Gerard has made one movie that has redeemed his whole career and gives us hope for his future: Dear Frankie.
Dear Frankie (2004) is a film directed by Shona Auerbach and starring Emily Mortimer, Gerard Butler, and Jack McElhone. The screenplay by Andrea Gibb focuses on a young single mother in Scotland whose love for her son prompts her to perpetuate a deception designed to protect him from the truth about his father. It truly is a gem, and Gerard Butler is just right in the part of “the stranger” who pretends to be Frankie’s father. Would that he would play a few more parts in movies like this!
So I suggest we all watch Dear Frankie in honor of Gerard’s 43rd birthday. Have your Kleenex handy, because it’s a weeper (despite the feel-good cover art). I put it in the same category as Fried Green Tomatoes, another favorite of mine, which I cannot watch 10 minutes of before I am hopelessly weeping. Let me hasten to say, this is not a bad thing. Maybe what we need is a good cry.
dual personalities 