Sometimes when you’ve had a day full of Zoom meetings and newsletters revisions and two hours on the phone with the university IT help desk, there is nothing to do but watch Youtube videos of Steve McQ.
Tonight, if I’m still feeling really confused, I may have to indulge in a little Channing Tatum…
‘Cause a woman ought to do what she thinks is best.
That’s all I’ve got today. Oh, and this from Samuel Taylor Coleridge:
Recently I watched the movie My Foolish Heart (1949) which, as you know, is the only film adaptation of a fictional work written by J.D. Salinger. It was loosely adapted from his short story, “Uncle Wiggly in Connecticut,” and Salinger was so disappointed with the changes made to his original story, that he never again allowed any of his work to be adapted for film.
Dana Andrews and Susan Hayward–all wrong
It isn’t a terrible movie (especially if you don’t know the Salinger connection.) The screenplay is, after all, by Julius and Philip Epstein, who wrote Casablanca (1942). But they took Salinger’s poignant little story and turned it into a four-star tearjerker, giving it the full-blown Hollywood treatment. He must have been really embarrassed, I mean really embarrassed. I re-read the story and I suggest you do the same.
This is an interesting article about a dead Presbyterian who still has a lot to say to us.
And this article by an Episcopalian makes some good points.
And I like this poem by Richard Wilbur:
A Barred Owl
The warping night air having brought the boom Of an owl’s voice into her darkened room, We tell the wakened child that all she heard Was an odd question from a forest bird, Asking of us, if rightly listened to, “Who cooks for you?” and then “Who cooks for you?”
Words, which can make our terrors bravely clear, Can also thus domesticate a fear, And send a small child back to sleep at night Not listening for the sound of stealthy flight Or dreaming of some small thing in a claw Borne up to some dark branch and eaten raw.
Who cooks for you?
*George Bernard Shaw (He continued, “The difficulty is to find them to do. Never lose a chance: it doesn’t come every day.””)
If we meet and I say, ‘Hi,’ That’s a salutation. If you ask me how I feel, That’s a consideration. If we stop and talk a while, That’s a conversation. If we understand each other, That’s a communication. If we argue, scream and fight, That’s an altercation. If later we apologize, That’s reconciliation. If we help each other home, That’s a cooperation. And all these actions added up Make Civilization. (And if I say this is a wonderful poem, Is that exaggeration?)
–Shel Silverstein
Maybe this poem helps to understand why civilization, as we know it, is crumbling…
I have never been able to read more than a few pages of a Lee Child novel, but I still thought this article was interesting. “The heart has its reasons which reason knows nothing of… We know the truth not only by the reason, but by the heart.” (Pascal)
This is a very helpful list. “The Lord is righteous in all his ways.” (Psalm 145:17)
Did you know that this month marks the 70th anniversary of the publication of C. S. Lewis’s The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe? It might be time to take it off the shelf for another reading.
“It isn’t Her!” This was bad grammar of course, but that is how beavers talk when they are excited; I mean, in Narnia–in our world they usually don’t talk at all.”
It is October! We are “back at school” but still on Zoom. Sigh. Thankfully, the weather is beautiful and fall-like and it is Friday. The leaves are turning, but we won’t hit peak for weeks here in flyover country.
The boy came over yesterday afternoon to help haul things out to the curb for (another) bulky trash pickup. We got rid of a lot of ‘stuff’ that daughter #1 and I bagged up over the last few weekends, plus some big items that were just taking up space.
The wee laddie accompanied his dad and when I was tidying up the living room before they went home, I found him …
…in the bag of Beanie Babies! Quel nutball!
I thought this article was typical of Apartment Therapy and there “must do,” right now, apocalyptic, “as the climate crisis grows more dire” attitude to everything, but it did get me thinking. If you had to leave home because of an emergency, what would you grab?
This was a thoughtful post about Raskolnikov and the Gospel of Luke and includes this provocative line, “Just prior to this, my mother had revitalized her commitment to the local Episcopal church after years of shoddy attendance.”
TCM will be celebrating 30 years of The Film Foundation in October so I am looking forward to watching a lot of good movies. Last night I watched one of my favorites: La Strada (1954), Fellini’s masterpiece.
“Its purpose is – how should I know? If I knew, I’d be…the Almighty, who knows everything. When you’re born. When you die. Who knows? No, I don’t know what this pebble’s purpose is, but it must have one, because if this pebble has no purpose, then everything is pointless. Even the stars! At least, I think so. And you too. You have a purpose too.”
I will be on my own this weekend, so it will be a quiet one. Believe me, I need one! How about you?
My weekend sped by in a blur. I managed to finish Craig Johnson’s newest Longmire mystery, Next to Last Stand, so that daughter #1 could take it home with her. It was very enjoyable and, as usual, it made me want to pack it all in and move to Wyoming.
I could live here.
(At least part of the year…It does get cold in the winter.)
We worked more in the basement and found more Beanie Babies–monkeys!
We sorted through other boxes of toys and books and games. The wee babes are making out like bandits with new found treasures every week. A snow globe with penguins for Lottie…
…and this c. 1990 Little Tikes “sanitation truck” for the bud were huge hits this weekend. (We were missing the garbage man, but we found a substitute.)
This old wooden train is always a fave.
We are making progress. In one backward step, we went to an estate sale and bought some books (!) for which I have no bookshelf space, but c’est la vie.
When the wee babes came over on Saturday (their parents were going to a party–outside with social distancing, I’m sure) we watched Aladdin (1992) after playtime exhausted us. I had not seen it in probably 25 years. It was no doubt too intense for three-year olds, but they had already seen it, so I am not responsible for traumatizing them. Lottie put a blanket over her head during the scary parts.
When the babes went home, we finally got to have our weekly margaritas and relax. They were very much appreciated.
Sunday afternoon I listened to some podcasts and worked on my elephant needlepoint. One podcast I am listening to and enjoying is Poetry For All with Abram Van Engen, who is an associate professor of English at my flyover university, and another professor from Illinois Wesleyan University. This podcast is not just “for those who love poetry, but those who feel hesitant about it, even those who dislike it altogether.” Try it; you might like it! I find that poetry is good for what ails you.
It is going to be a stressful week for me and I will take it one day at a time. Amen. Praise God.
Because of the Lord’s great love we are not consumed, for his compassions never fail. 23 They are new every morning; great is your faithfulness. 24 I say to myself, “The Lord is my portion; therefore I will wait for him.
You don’t believe — I won’t attempt to make ye. You are asleep — I won’t attempt to wake ye. Sleep on, sleep on, while in your pleasant dreams Of reason you may drink of life’s clear streams Reason and Newton, they are quite two things, For so the swallow and the sparrow sings. Reason says ‘Miracle’, Newton says ‘Doubt’. Aye, that’s the way to make all Nature out: Doubt, doubt, and don’t believe without experiment. That is the very thing that Jesus meant When he said: ‘Only believe.’ Believe and try, Try, try, and never mind the reason why.
Well, I hope you had a good long weekend. Mine was lovely and I feel that I accomplished a little bit too. There’s nothing like a trip to the recycling center to lighten my step.
Today is the birthday of one of my heroes (and a non-relative) Joshua Lawrence Chamberlain (1828-1914). He is best known for his gallantry at the Battle of Gettysburg, for which he was awarded the Medal of Honor. Following the Civil War, he served as Governor of Maine and the President of Bowdoin College.
We will toast him tonight. I am happy to say that I have been to Gettysburg and was able to cross that excursion off my bucket list several years ago. I hope I can cross something else off my bucket list this year, but chances are looking slim. Year’s end is quickly approaching, after all, and I am starting to think about Christmas. Amazing.
As always, we like to listen to Steve Earle’s fine song about Colonel Chamberlain and Little Round Top on his birthday. We’ll toast Steve too for managing to rhyme “Chamberlain”:
On Saturday the OM and I decided to take a drive down to Jefferson Barracks National Cemetery on the Mississippi River at Lemay, MO. Both our fathers are buried there, so we found their graves.
I was glad to be reminded that my father’s grave was located on Grant Drive with a nice view. (You will recall that U.S. Grant was assigned to Jefferson Barracks after graduating from West Point in 1843.) ANC III was a proud veteran of two wars and I think he would be pleased with his resting place.
We didn’t tarry.
The muffled drum’s sad roll has beat The soldier’s last tattoo; No more on life’s parade shall meet That brave and fallen few. On Fame’s eternal camping-ground Their silent tents are spread, And Glory guards, with solemn round, The bivouac of the dead.
From “Bivouac of the Dead” by Theodore O’Hara (1820 – 1867)
In other news I was sad to note the passing of Julia Evans Reed who fought the good fight but lost it finally on Friday. She was a journalist and wrote for Garden & Gun in recent years. She appreciated old things and history, her southern heritage, old friends and good parties. And she was a good writer. Also lost to cancer was Chadwick Bozeman, who soldiered on through surgeries and chemotherapy to make several movies, most notably Black Panther (2018), exhibiting extraordinary courage.
Into paradise may the angels lead thee and at thy coming may the martyrs receive thee, and bring thee into the holy city Jerusalem. (BCP, Burial of the Dead, Rite I)
On a happier note, daughter #2 dressed wee Katiebelle in a smocked dress my mother made for daughter #1 and had a photo shoot. Note the wee babe is wearing the cherry bloomers and matching booties her aunt made to complete the ensemble.
Here is daughter #1 wearing the dress on Christmas in 1984 with her grandma who made it.
Sunrise, sunset.
One of the lessons in Sunday’s liturgy was this wonderful passage from Romans:
Let love be genuine; hate what is evil, hold fast to what is good; love one another with mutual affection; outdo one another in showing honor. Do not lag in zeal, be ardent in spirit, serve the Lord. Rejoice in hope, be patient in suffering, persevere in prayer. Contribute to the needs of the saints; extend hospitality to strangers.
Bless those who persecute you; bless and do not curse them. Rejoice with those who rejoice, weep with those who weep. Live in harmony with one another; do not be haughty, but associate with the lowly; do not claim to be wiser than you are. Do not repay anyone evil for evil, but take thought for what is noble in the sight of all. If it is possible, so far as it depends on you, live peaceably with all. Beloved, never avenge yourselves, but leave room for the wrath of God; for it is written, “Vengeance is mine, I will repay, says the Lord.” No, “if your enemies are hungry, feed them; if they are thirsty, give them something to drink; for by doing this you will heap burning coals on their heads.” Do not be overcome by evil, but overcome evil with good.
Words to live by. I especially like the part about leaving room for the wrath of God. Trust that he is in control. Everything will work out.
What happened is, we grew lonely living among the things, so we gave the clock a face, the chair a back, the table four stout legs which will never suffer fatigue.
We fitted our shoes with tongues as smooth as our own and hung tongues inside bells so we could listen to their emotional language,
and because we loved graceful profiles the pitcher received a lip, the bottle a long, slender neck.
Even what was beyond us was recast in our image; we gave the country a heart, the storm an eye, the cave a mouth so we could pass into safety.
“Things” by Lisel Mueller
My apologies for the shortness of this post, but I have had a busy week so far…but a poem a day is good for dealing with stress, right?
Tomorrow is the birthday of Ogden Nash (August 19, 1902 – May 19, 1971), an American poet known for his light verse. This poem, which I haven’t thought about for years and years, was a great favorite of mine as a child. Remember “The Tale of Custard the Dragon”?
Belinda lived in a little white house, With a little black kitten and a little gray mouse, And a little yellow dog and a little red wagon, And a realio, trulio, little pet dragon.
Now the name of the little black kitten was Ink, And the little gray mouse, she called him Blink, And the little yellow dog was sharp as Mustard, But the dragon was a coward, and she called him Custard.
Belinda was as brave as a barrel full of bears, And Ink and Blink chased lions down the stairs, Mustard was as brave as a tiger in a rage, But Custard cried for a nice safe cage.
Our copy was in “The Golden Treasury of Poetry” illustrated by Joan Walsh Anglund.
I wonder if people still read Nash’s poems to their children as our parents did. Studies show, of course, that reading to one’s children is one of the most effective ways to build the “language” neural connections in their growing brains as well as a strong base for cognitive development. Indeed, babies who are read to have their “receptive” vocabularies (number of words they understand) increased 40 per cent, while those not read to increase by only 16 per cent. (Studies show!)
Well, a toast to old Ogden Nash and a realio, trulio, little pet dragon.
While on the subject of reading, John Piper gives 10 reasons for reading the Bible every day. “Ye shall know the truth, and the truth shall make you free.” (John 8:32)
(Painting by Mary Cassatt: “Mrs Cassatt Reading to her Grandchildren” -1888)
I took Friday afternoon off and had a picnic with my two pals in Laumeier Park and started off the weekend on a fine note. Daughter #1 arrived in town in time for a beer on the patio.
Then we listened to the 2-record Henry Mancini set she found at an estate sale. Life in the fast lane, man.
We enjoyed a pretty mellow weekend, the highlight of which was a visit from the wee babes who shrieked with delight at the prospect of a play date with their aunt.
On Saturday we had unearthed more treasures from our basement cache of vintage toys, which included a lot more Beanie Babies…
(A pyramid of doggies care of Lottie)
…and myriad other 1990s treats…
The wee laddie preferred to play with his old favorites, “my Cooper” in particular…
although he did climb into the doll crib for a pretend nap.
There is never a dull moment when these monkeys are around.
We FaceTimed with the newest wee babe and her Mommy.
We mused that she really does bear a striking resemblance to her great great grandfather ANC Jr…
Aren’t genes fascinating?
After daughter #1 returned to mid-MO on Sunday, I repotted some plants and caught up with daughter #2. I read some more Lovejoy (I’m on my third mystery.) I tidied up and got my mind set for the work week.
Here are some good words from the Quaker poet John Greenleaf Whittier to start your week:
Dear Lord and Father of mankind,
Forgive our foolish ways!
Reclothe us in our rightful mind,
In purer lives Thy service find,
In deeper reverence, praise.
In simple trust like theirs who heard
Beside the Syrian sea
The gracious calling of the Lord,
Let us, like them, without a word
Rise up and follow Thee.
O Sabbath rest by Galilee!
O calm of hills above,
Where Jesus knelt to share with Thee
The silence of eternity
Interpreted by love!
With that deep hush subduing all
Our words and works that drown
The tender whisper of Thy call,
As noiseless let Thy blessing fall
As fell Thy manna down.
Drop Thy still dews of quietness,
Till all our strivings cease;
Take from our souls the strain and stress,
And let our ordered lives confess
The beauty of Thy peace.
Breathe through the heats of our desire
Thy coolness and Thy balm;
Let sense be dumb, let flesh retire;
Speak through the earthquake, wind, and fire,
O still, small voice of calm.
*Alan Arkin in The Russians Are Coming, The Russians Are Coming (1966)–an hilarious movie which I highly recommend watching.
