dual personalities

Tag: poetry

April 6, 2021

Nothing else but miracles

by chuckofish

The day after

I had a busy day at work on Monday–four Zoom meetings! So I don’t have a whole lot to share today. Meanwhile the grass is getting greener and the leaf blowers and lawn mowers are back with a vengeance.

Yesterday was Nebraska Day and this article was very interesting about classic movie stars who were born in Nebraska. It is a very impressive list–especially compared to Missouri. But, hey, we have Scott Bakula.

This article makes some good points. “Remote, virtual, disembodied fellowship simply isn’t enough.” We are all getting too comfortable with not seeing people.

We’ll “tip our hats an’ raise our glass of cold, cold beer” to the late, great Merle Haggard (1937–2016) on his the birthday today. (April 6 is also the day he died.) And I like this rendition of one of my favorites, Mama Tried, by Reina del Cid and Toni Lindgren:

When the California State University, Bakersfield, awarded Haggard the honorary degree of Doctor of Fine Arts in 2013, Haggard stepped to the podium and said, “Thank you. It’s nice to be noticed.” Classic Hag.

So enjoy your Tuesday and channel some positive Walt Whitman attitude.

Why, who makes much of a miracle?
As to me I know of nothing else but miracles,
Whether I walk the streets of Manhattan,
Or dart my sight over the roofs of houses toward the sky,
Or wade with naked feet along the beach just in the edge of the water,
Or stand under trees in the woods,
Or talk by day with any one I love, or sleep in the bed at night with any one I love,
Or sit at table at dinner with the rest,
Or look at strangers opposite me riding in the car,
Or watch honey-bees busy around the hive of a summer forenoon,
Or animals feeding in the fields,
Or birds, or the wonderfulness of insects in the air,
Or the wonderfulness of the sundown, or of stars shining so quiet and bright,
Or the exquisite delicate thin curve of the new moon in spring;
These with the rest, one and all, are to me miracles,
The whole referring, yet each distinct and in its place.

To me every hour of the light and dark is a miracle,
Every cubic inch of space is a miracle,
Every square yard of the surface of the earth is spread with the same,
Every foot of the interior swarms with the same.

To me the sea is a continual miracle,
The fishes that swim—the rocks—the motion of the waves—the
        ships with men in them,
What stranger miracles are there?

–Walt Whitman

4 Comments
April 5, 2021

Postcards from the weekend

by chuckofish

Kilroy was (t)here. (We missed you!)

I hope everyone had a lovely Easter weekend. Mine was exhausting! SO much social activity after weeks, months, a year of not much going on.

I was busy on Friday getting ready for Saturday.

Mimosas are a good start to any party.

Liz got emotional opening daughter #1’s handmade baby blankets. After a yummy lunch (chicken salad, of course) we sat outside in the sun and watched the wee babes frolic on the driveway. After her husband picked Liz up and daughter #3 went home with the babes, we went to pick up margaritas at Club Taco. We finished Ben Hur, which we had started the night before.

On Easter morning we got up early and went to the 8:00 am service at an actual church. It felt great to sit in a pew again and sing hymns. God-honoring worship with the Word of God faithfully preached and the Lord’s Supper celebrated was much appreciated. It will take awhile to get used to not kneeling and to drinking grape juice at communion, but I think I can manage.

When we got home, I made Episcopal Souffle (ironic, yes) and then the boy and his family came over. The babes opened their Easter baskets.

Daughter #1 gave the wee laddie a book on Porsches (estate sale find), which he opened to squeals of joy. He carried it around for the rest of the day.

Note the book in back of the Cooper (ingenious)

We had a super fun egg hunt.

Once again we sat on the driveway in the glorious sun and watched the world bicycle/drive/stroll by. Two days of beautiful spring weather and a little social interaction can do wonders for one’s spirits.

And now it’s Monday. What the…

“Make no mistake: if he rose at all
It was as His body;
If the cell’s dissolution did not reverse, the molecule reknit,
The amino acids rekindle,
The Church will fall.

It was not as the flowers,
Each soft spring recurrent;
It was not as His Spirit in the mouths and fuddled eyes of the
Eleven apostles;
It was as His flesh; ours.

The same hinged thumbs and toes
The same valved heart
That—pierced—died, withered, paused, and then regathered
Out of enduring Might
New strength to enclose.

Let us not mock God with metaphor,
Analogy, sidestepping, transcendence,
Making of the event a parable, a sign painted in the faded
Credulity of earlier ages:
Let us walk through the door.”

— from John Updike’s Seven Stanzas at Easter

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April 2, 2021

Surrexit dominus de sepulchro*

by chuckofish

Well, Good Friday is here. Let’s all take a moment.

Am I a stone, and not a sheep,
That I can stand, O Christ, beneath Thy cross,
To number drop by drop Thy blood’s slow loss,
And yet not weep?

Not so those women loved
Who with exceeding grief lamented Thee;
Not so fallen Peter, weeping bitterly;
Not so the thief was moved;

Not so the Sun and Moon
Which hid their faces in a starless sky,
A horror of great darkness at broad noon –
I, only I.

Yet give not o’er,
But seek Thy sheep, true Shepherd of the flock;
Greater than Moses, turn and look once more
And smite a rock.

Christina Rosetti

Tonight we will watch Ben Hur (1959) up to the intermission, finishing tomorrow. It’s a good tradition.

On Saturday we are having a wee luncheon for one of daughter #1’s friends from college who has moved to our flyover city. She is expecting twins, so we thought we would introduce her to our twins– a glimpse of Things To Come.

Remember?

Daughter #1 and I are going to church on Sunday–for the first time in a year I am somewhat ashamed to say. I have been worshipping–if you can rightly call it that–by visiting churches online for the past year and by listening to online sermons. It is far from the same thing, however, and we all need to get back on track. We will be visiting a new church, a Presbyterian Church. We’ll see how it goes.

Sunday is also our pater’s birthday. He would be 99! To have been born in 1922 doesn’t seem that long ago, but it is!

ANC III was a lifelong Episcopalian with a Monica-like mother who I’m sure prayed mightily for his salvation. Whether her prayers were answered, I have no idea. But I will lift a toast to him on Sunday and sigh deeply. I hardly knew ye.

In other news, our neighbors across the street were TP’d overnight. (I never heard a thing.) Kind of a lame attempt, really, and such a shocking waste of toilet paper!

And on a week night! Zut alors. I am reminded again that some things never change.

Have a blessed weekend.

Almighty God, who through your only‑begotten Son Jesus Christ overcame death and opened to us the gate of everlasting life: Grant that we, who celebrate with joy the day of the Lord’s resurrection, may be raised from the death of sin by your life‑giving Spirit; through Jesus Christ our Lord, who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, now and for ever. Amen.

BCP

*He is risen from the grave

(The window is in St. Paul’s Episcopal Church, Key West, FL.)

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March 26, 2021

“May you have a strong foundation/ When the winds of changes shift”*

by chuckofish

Friday again. The OM and I are in Jefferson City getting our second Pfizer vaccine shot. We took the train in yesterday after work and daughter #1 is going to drive us back home later today. We lead such glamorous, fast-paced lives, n’est-ce pas? Anyway, I will be glad to have all this vaccine business behind us.

Speaking of Jeff City, daughter #1 sent me this article about hometown Hollywood producer Gina Goff, who just made a movie starring 90-year old William Shatner. It’s a small world.

Meanwhile the spring term at my flyover institute commences on Monday. A whole year has gone by since we canceled our spring term last year. Yes, we are still online and Zooming.

“This hill, though high, I covet to ascend;
The difficulty will not me offend.
For I perceive the way to life lies here.
Come, pluck up, heart; let’s neither faint nor fear.
Better, though difficult, the right way to go,
Than wrong, though easy, where the end is woe.”

John Bunyan, “Christian” in Pilgrim’s Progress

We could all be reminded of this, written by William Crawford,  Minister of the Gospel at Wiltown, Hawick From A Short Practical Catechism, 3rd edition, Edinburgh, in 1745.

Are you following @ultimatelacrosse on Instagram? The boy has started making videos again and they are pretty great. Daughter #1 is his producer. (You have to click on the link to watch the videos.)

And here’s to DN whose birthday is today. You know we’ll be thinking of you and toasting you tonight! L’chaim!

In other news, I watched Seven Samurai (1954) again and it was great.

It took two nights, because it is a long (207 minutes) movie, but I highly recommend it. It is a top ten film in the foreign film category.

Sunday is Palm Sunday and marks the beginning of Holy Week:

And when they drew near to Jerusalem, to Beth′phage and Bethany, at the Mount of Olives, he sent two of his disciples, 2 and said to them, “Go into the village opposite you, and immediately as you enter it you will find a colt tied, on which no one has ever sat; untie it and bring it. 3 If any one says to you, ‘Why are you doing this?’ say, ‘The Lord has need of it and will send it back here immediately.’” 4 And they went away, and found a colt tied at the door out in the open street; and they untied it. 5 And those who stood there said to them, “What are you doing, untying the colt?” 6 And they told them what Jesus had said; and they let them go. 7 And they brought the colt to Jesus, and threw their garments on it; and he sat upon it. 8 And many spread their garments on the road, and others spread leafy branches which they had cut from the fields. 9 And those who went before and those who followed cried out, “Hosanna! Blessed is he who comes in the name of the Lord! 10 Blessed is the kingdom of our father David that is coming! Hosanna in the highest!”

11 And he entered Jerusalem, and went into the temple; and when he had looked round at everything, as it was already late, he went out to Bethany with the twelve.

Mark 11:1-11

To help you picture the landscape of the scriptures, here are a few photos from my trip to Israel in 2018, including one of the model of ancient Jerusalem.

Go in peace to love and serve the Lord.

*Bob Dylan, “Forever Young”

2 Comments
March 15, 2021

“Into the quiet cardigan harbor of my life”*

by chuckofish

Once again I was reminded that I am approaching 65 and that I don’t bounce back from things like medical procedures the way I used to. It took days to recover from having my port taken out! I spent most of Friday napping and the few errands that daughter #1 and I ran on Saturday wore me out. Just call me Oldie Hawn.

But we watched The Quiet Man (1952) on Saturday night (St. Patrick’s Day approaches) and I stayed awake through the whole wonderful thing.

The Quiet Man is another one of those movies we can recite practically in its entirety from memory (and with an Irish brogue) and to whose location we have made a pilgrimage. Monument Valley is next on the list of pilgrimages, but who knows when that will actually happen, what with the goal posts of COVID restrictions being constantly moved.

The wee babes did not come over as usual on Sunday night because their other grandmother has returned from Florida and her presence in town takes precedence over all. I do not begrudge her this, but it was still disappointing. The OM was all set to barbecue! C’est la vie. (See John Wayne’s face above.)

In order to get out of the resultant Slough of Despond, I did not watch a movie from my lenten list, but instead watched Uncle Buck (1989), a go-to anti-depressant for me.

I felt better (and thinner).

Now it is the beginning of a busy work week. Zoom meetings galore. Onward and upward.

*But having sailed some time ago
into the quiet cardigan harbor of my life
out of earshot of the siren songs
that lure men onto reefs of foolishness
not to mention the bridges of bravado,
it’s enough to let the soap bubble
of that Hank Mobley thought drift
slowly across the living room and burst
with no warning, much to the amazement of the cat.

Billy Collins
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February 22, 2021

Tout va bien

by chuckofish

504b869c4debf4e4c8d33b786efbd21e.jpg

Well, my big errand of the weekend was loading up the Cooper and driving to the recycling center to unload boxes. Quite satisfying, but not very exciting to say the least. My hands got very cold. The OM and I also moved the 1000 piece partially finished jigsaw puzzle, which daughter #1 and I had started last weekend, off the coffee table in the living room onto a salvaged wooden dresser top to get it out of the way in anticipation of the wee babes coming over on Sunday night. Oh, the exhausting issues of our bourgeoisie life.

The babes did come over and we had tacos and they played (mostly) happily while the grownups talked.

Today starts our last full week of winter term classes at my flyover institute. March–and spring–are just around the corner, right? In fact, when tromping through our snowy yard yesterday, I came upon these in the southside forsythia bed…

…daffodils coming up! Zut alors! I can’t believe it. Spring will come, no matter what we do. Best to enjoy each day (and its weather) as it comes. We will endeavor to do the best we can and no more. It may not be enough, but so be it.

Labor with what zeal we will,
Something still remains undone,
Something uncompleted still
Waits the rising of the sun.
By the bedside, on the stair,
At the threshold, near the gates,
With its menace or its prayer,
Like a mendicant it waits;
Waits, and will not go away;
Waits, and will not be gainsaid;
By the cares of yesterday
Each to-day is heavier made;
Till at length the burden seems
Greater than our strength can bear,
Heavy as the weight of dreams,
Pressing on us everywhere.
And we stand from day to day,
Like the dwarfs of times gone by,
Who, as Northern legends say,
On their shoulders held the sky.

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, “Something Left Undone”

The photo at the top is from Pinterest. Go in peace to love and serve the Lord.

6 Comments
February 16, 2021

“The snows that are older than history”*

by chuckofish

This was the view out my “office” window yesterday.

And here’s the view out my front door. My work day was basically unchanged, because Zoom classes just carry on despite the weather. Zut alors! Quel monde!

I usually like to walk around in the snow, but when the high is 3 degrees, that’s too cold to mess around. I was happy to stay inside in my snug house and watch this:

I wanted the gold, and I sought it;
   I scrabbled and mucked like a slave.
Was it famine or scurvy—I fought it;
   I hurled my youth into a grave.
I wanted the gold, and I got it— 
   Came out with a fortune last fall,— 
Yet somehow life’s not what I thought it,
   And somehow the gold isn’t all.

(Read the whole poem here.)

Daughter #1 sensibly took the train back to mid-MO, rather than drive. (I’m sure you’ll hear more about that adventure tomorrow.)

In the meantime I’ll bundle up and count my blessings and contemplate the coming Lenten season, which commences tomorrow. No pancakes though, as in yesteryears, in Albright Hall tonight. And that’s okay. I certainly won’t be giving anything up this year. If anything, I will take something on.

Give me a heart to believe, that I may obey you, for you have commanded it. Give me a heart to believe, that I may please you, for you have said that is what you desire. Give me a heart to believe, that I may honor you, for you have declared that this gives glory to you.

It is enough to be yours. Just give me a heart to believe, since without faith I can have no part in you.

David Clarkson (1622-1686)

*Robert W. Service

3 Comments
February 15, 2021

“I would always rather be happy than dignified.”*

by chuckofish

We had a fun-filled weekend, despite the fact that temperatures never got above 8 degrees.

Thank goodness for a fire and a new puzzle to do!

Daughter #1 had planned on leaving bright and early on Sunday morning in order to get ahead of the snow headed our way, but the bad weather had already hit mid-MO, so she stayed in town and will head back as soon as the roads clear.

The wee babes came over on Saturday for our little Valentine party.

A couple of new books, some candy and a frolic in the Beanie Baby mosh pit are all it takes for sustained gaiety. Pizza from Deweys. Voila. We all loved our handmade gifts from the babes.

Baby Katie was sorry that she missed the fun…

…and we sure missed her, but we FaceTimed twice and exchanged our Valentines via mail.

We watched Bullitt (1968) which has become our Valentine tradish. We enjoyed it thoroughly.

And now it is a new week. Here’s a poem to start it off:

How many slams in an old screen door?
Depends how loud you shut it.
How many slices in a bread?
Depends how thin you cut it.
How much good inside a day?
Depends how good you live ’em.
How much love inside a friend?
Depends how much you give ’em.

Shel Silverstein

*Charlotte Bronte, Jane Eyre

3 Comments
February 2, 2021

“The fox knows many tricks, the hedgehog, one good one”*

by chuckofish

Today is Groundhog Day. But did you know that it is also Hedgehog Day? Me neither.

A hedgehog is any of the spiny mammals of the subfamily Erinaceinae. Their spiny protection resembles that of the unrelated porcupines, which are rodents. Hedgehogs are not rodents. Please.

Hans Hoffmann, c. 1584

The other night Lottie asked me what was my favorite animal and I said the hedgehog. The look of utter incredulity was classic Lottie.

I changed my answer to elephants. Much better answer, okay.

I’ll have to work on bringing Lottie over to my side.

In the meantime, I’ll toast the lowly hedgehog tonight.

I will also note that today is National Tater Tot Day. Who knew? Tater Tots were invented by the frozen food company Ore-Ida (“When it says Ore-Ida, they’re all-righta!”) In the U.S. we consume approximately 3.5 billion of these nuggets of potato goodness per year. Well, we served Tater Tots on Sunday. The wee babes were unimpressed–finding it hard to believe that they were “like French Fries.”

Hedgehogs and Tater Tots, oh my, and who cares? Maybe tonight I’ll watch Groundhog Day (1993), a movie I don’t think I’ve ever actually ever seen start to finish. It would be appropriate following a day that will no doubt be just like yesterday, a day filled with Zoom meetings and trips up and downstairs in my own house, sometimes punctuated by grumbling from the OM in his basement office. Has it really been 10 and 1/2 months since we left the house?

Here’s a sad poem by Philip Larkin called The Mower. It’s about a hedgehog, but really about us all.

The mower stalled, twice; kneeling, I found   
A hedgehog jammed up against the blades,   
Killed. It had been in the long grass.

I had seen it before, and even fed it, once.   
Now I had mauled its unobtrusive world   
Unmendably. Burial was no help:

Next morning I got up and it did not.
The first day after a death, the new absence   
Is always the same; we should be careful

Of each other, we should be kind   
While there is still time.

*Archilochus c. 680–645 BCE

6 Comments
January 29, 2021

“Toiling,—rejoicing,—sorrowing, Onward through life he goes”*

by chuckofish

It snowed on Wednesday–not much–just enough to be pretty.

Look at that blue sky for a change! We haven’t seen much of that blue sky this winter.

This is good information for those of us who worry about such things.

Wednesday was the 100th birthday of Donna Reed. Iowa’s governor, Kim Reynolds, proclaimed it “Donna Reed Day“–wasn’t that nice? Indeed, it is surprising to note how many of my favorite movies featured her back in the day, notably They Were Expendable (1945).

Her big scene is so well done, so understated, but powerful. Note that she is wearing her U.S. Navy jumpsuit, but has put on pearls for this big “dinner party” on the temporary island base. She won an Academy Award for playing against type in From Here to Eternity (1953) and she deserved it, but no one was better at playing to type, the fresh-faced Iowa girl.

This article on “the standing orders of the gospel” (“Rejoice always, pray without ceasing, give thanks in all circumstances”) is worth your time to read. 

It is the will of God for us to rejoice always. But obedience to this command is not accomplished by an act of the will. It is only accomplished by faith in Christ. The believer’s unceasing rejoicing is the will of God for us “in Christ Jesus.” This is the key to the life of rejoicing. Unsaved people do not rejoice in God, pray to God, or give thanks to God. Religious people rejoice sometimes, pray when they feel like it, and give thanks when things are going well. But Christians rejoice always, pray without ceasing, and give thanks in all circumstances. This is not the believer’s response because we are impervious to life’s dangers, toils, and snares. It is our response to life because we are in Christ Jesus.

And I really liked this from the Almost Daily Devotional:

The term “obeisance” means to acknowledge another’s superiority or importance.  I love the way it is used in this provocative article in the UK’s The Guardian. “Even with the smartphone’s on-purpose designed-in distraction notification architecture, our prostration at their non-human feet is the real issue. Our obeisance demotes the advanced human, and we pretend it doesn’t. We don’t take charge of our attention. Our little robots do. And we caress them.”

Of course, our obsession with our phone is not the problem; it is a manifestation of the deeper problem. Sin – or in current terms, self-interested distractibility – is our problem. Our attention and obeisance rightly belong to our Lord. Single-mindedly, St. Paul says, “For I resolved to know nothing among you except Jesus Christ and him crucified.” (1 Corinthians 2:2)

While we may worship our Lord each day and in all kinds of settings, our current inability to worship Him in church is what truly “demotes the advanced human.” Worship, especially corporate worship, is a reset – it pulls our bent down heads and fixated eyes from our phone (or you name it) up to gaze at the cross. We are brought out of ourselves to, ironically, be ourselves, for we were made by God and for God – to love, worship, and obey Him.

Help us, Lord!

Tonight we will toast our other ancestor with a January birthday, John Wesley Prowers, on his 182nd birthday. Born in Missouri in 1838, you will recall that he became a trader, cattle rancher, legislator, and businessman in the territory and state of Colorado.

Speaking of ancestors and descendants, I hope we get to see the wee babes this weekend…

…and talk to these twinsies…

Indeed, I plan to take it easy this weekend–it was a long, hard week!–I’ll toast J.W. Prowers, watch a Donna Reed movie, do some needlepoint, talk on the phone with my loved ones (and then put my phone down for the duration), and get out of the house to do something.

And rejoice!

*”The Village Blacksmith” by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow–read the whole poem here.

7 Comments