reading | dual personalities

It was snowing and very cold when I woke up on Sunday morning, but I had to get up and go to church because I was reading the second lesson. Luckily it was a good passage: I Corinthians 12:1-11–the one about there being varieties of gifts, but one Spirit.

⁴Now there are varieties of gifts, but the same Spirit; ⁵and there are varieties of service, but the same Lord; ⁶and there are varieties of working, but it is the same God who inspires them all in every one. ⁷To each is given the manifestation of the Spirit for the common good. ⁸To one is given through the Spirit the utterance of wisdom, and to another the utterance of knowledge according to the same Spirit, ⁹to another faith by the same Spirit, to another gifts of healing by the one Spirit, ¹⁰to another the working of miracles, to another prophecy, to another the ability to distinguish between spirits, to another various kinds of tongues, to another the interpretation of tongues. ¹¹All these are inspired by one and the same Spirit, who apportions to each one individually as he wills.

It is a good reminder to think about what our gifts are and to use them appropriately.

The Gospel was about the wedding in Cana when Jesus uses a tone with his mother, but then does what she asks him.

The Marriage at Cana by Giotto

Sounds familiar, all you mothers of sons, right?

It is interesting to note that Mary at this early point thinks Jesus can do something about the fact that the wedding party has run out of wine… Well, lots of food for thought.

Speaking of mothers, I bought a frame at an estate sale on Saturday which enabled me to put these three pictures together:

Mary Hough (great-great grandmother), Anna Hough Carnahan (great-grandmother) and Catherine Carnahan Cameron (grandmother). Pretty cool, eh?

I have today off for Martin Luther King’s birthday–how ’bout you?

*The top photo is of some Middlebury College skiers in the 1940s. Is that my mother, the third from the right?

3 Comments

August 24, 2015

The whole armor of God

by chuckofish

Finally, be strong in the Lord and in the strength of his might.¹¹Put on the whole armor of God, that you may be able to stand against the wiles of the devil. ¹²For we are not contending against flesh and blood, but against the principalities, against the powers, against the world rulers of this present darkness, against the spiritual hosts of wickedness in the heavenly places. ¹³Therefore take the whole armor of God, that you may be able to withstand in the evil day, and having done all, to stand. ¹⁴Stand therefore, having girded your loins with truth, and having put on the breastplate of righteousness, ¹⁵and having shod your feet with the equipment of the gospel of peace; ¹⁶besides all these, taking the shield of faith, with which you can quench all the flaming darts of the evil one.¹⁷And take the helmet of salvation, and the sword of the Spirit, which is the word of God. ¹⁸Pray at all times in the Spirit, with all prayer and supplication. To that end keep alert with all perseverance, making supplication for all the saints, ¹⁹and also for me, that utterance may be given me in opening my mouth boldly to proclaim the mystery of the gospel, ²⁰for which I am an ambassador in chains; that I may declare it boldly, as I ought to speak.

–Ephesians 6:10-20

Yesterday, I was the first lector and read the Old Testament lesson. It was a good one from Joshua which included the verse about “as for me and my house, we will serve the LORD.” I also got to read the verse “Far be it from us that we should forsake the LORD…” which was amusing to me because “far be it from me” was a favorite way our put-upon father liked to start a sentence. It was right up there with “Be that as it may…” Have you noticed that we do not hear these expressions much anymore?

The second lesson was the above reading from Ephesians which is a really great one–We all need to remember it every morning before going out into the world.

On Saturday the OM and I loaded up the car with old computers and headed to the recycling event in O’Fallon, only to be caught in a terrible thunderstorm–the kind where most sane people on the highway have their emergency flashers on and are creeping along at 35 miles an hour. Zut alors! We got there and deposited our stuff, but we wisely decided against going to Clarksville and headed home instead.

Crazy kids that we are, we stopped and had brunch at Schneithorst’s.

Well, one more small step in my basement clean-up/organization project. Mission accomplished.

I also emptied the tall bookcases in my bedroom, carrying the many, many heavy books into another bedroom, and vacuumed behind them (!) in anticipation of having the room painted and wallpapered. This was quite a job.

I had been trying to read this book, but gave up.

It was a clever idea, but the main character did not engage me and ultimately she was annoying. She did not seem true to the mid-19th century and I can’t help thinking that she would have irritated the hell out of old Captain Ahab. Well-written, but…myeh.

I watched Ride With the Devil, did you? It was so good! These characters seemed very authentic and true to their time. I loved it.

And have you seen this video? There are bears in the pool! A mom and 5 cubs! In New Jersey! “What’s the mudder going to do?!”

The little girl reminds me of daughter #1–“They’re eating my floatie!”

Have a good week and don’t forget to put on your breastplate of righteousness.

4 Comments

January 3, 2015

Start as you mean to go on — 2015 edition

by chuckofish

Over the course of a December birthday and Christmas I have received several wonderful books. And what better way to start the year than with lots of new books to read? First, we have the Danish murder mystery that my youngest son gave me for my birthday.

Not your typical dour and depraved Scandinavian thriller, this book was both impossible to put down and pleasantly devoid of graphic violence. That’s not to say that the crime wasn’t unpleasant, but the book struck me as surprisingly PG-13 in a world of increasingly gratuitous NC-17 (if books got ratings that is). AND it’s part of a series, so I can look forward to more of the same.

I also received a couple of wonderful biographies, which I haven’t started reading yet.

I’m really looking forward to this one. James McPherson, famous Civil War historian, has this to say about it (quoted at Amazon): “To his family and friends he was Cump; to his soldiers he was Uncle Billy; to generations of Southern whites he was the devil incarnate. But to biographer Robert L. O’Connell, William T. Sherman was the quintessential nineteenth-century American: full of energy, constantly on the move, pragmatic, adaptable, determined to overcome all obstacles, a nationalist and patriot who teamed with Grant and Lincoln to win the Civil War and launch America as a world power. This readable biography offers new insights on Sherman as a husband and father as well as a master strategist and leader.” Sherman is a really fascinating character, don’t you think?

Going back a couple thousand years, we have the new biography of another iconic figure, Augustus, Rome’s first Emperor.

I have several more of Goldsworthy’s books, including his biography of Julius Caesar, a history of the Punic Wars, and a book about the Roman army. This author is a favorite of mine; he always takes his subjects on their own merit and puts everything in context. No post-modern, “the past is unrecoverable so we can make it up” history here. What a pleasure.

Another, more specialized Roman history book that I received is a new investigation of how the Romans dealt with military defeat.

This is actually a really interesting topic that combines military history, memory studies, politics, and culture …and it’s very readable. In any case, it’s good to be reminded that even the Romans suffered defeats from time to time (and during the 2nd Punic War, a lot).

All my reading does not focus on history or mystery, however. I also got (as I had asked) a lovely interior design book by Lisa Borgnes Giramonti, whose blog, “A Bloomsbury Life” I follow.

An artist and bibliophile, Borgnes decided to put her love of literature together with her love of beautiful interiors. The result: a book that takes “over 60 classic novels and find[s] modern homes that match the aesthetic described-down to the last chintz flower”(Architectural Digest). Think loads of gorgeous pictures and nice quotes plus some great decorating advice.

As you can see, I have received quite the treasure-trove of reading material. I’ll count myself a super lucky girl when I find the time to read all of this. Despite this wonderful backlog, I’m always looking for recommendations. What are you reading in 2015?

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October 30, 2014

“Everything passes, only the truth remains.”*

by chuckofish

According to some sources, Fyodor Dostoyevsky was born on this day in 1821.

Russian novelist, short story writer, essayist, journalist, and philosopher, Dostoyevsky was also, Malcolm Muggeridge wrote, “a God-possessed man if ever there was one, as is clear in everything he wrote and in every character he created.”

“What’s mystery? Everything’s mystery, my friend, everything is God’s mystery. There’s mystery in every tree, in every blade of grass. When a little bird sings or all those many, many stars shine in the sky at night–it’s all mystery, the same one. But the greatest mystery is what awaits man’s soul in the world beyond, and that’s the truth, my boy….

…No, my friend, you’ve got me wrong; I’ve always respected science since I was a boy and, although I can’t understand it myself, that’s all right: science may be beyond my ken, but it is within the ken of other men. And it’s best that way because then everyone has what comes to him, and not everyone is made to understand science…”

–Fyodor Dostoyevsky, The Adolescent

Fyodor and I are on the same page.

I have read Crime and Punishment and a wonderful book of excerpts edited by the Bruderhof, The Gospel in Dostoyevsky. I think it is time for me to tackle The Brothers Karamazov this winter. I have read parts, but never the whole thing.

So a toast to the great Dostoyevsky! Поехали! (Let’s get started!)

* Father Zossima in The Brothers Karamazov

6 Comments

October 21, 2014

In Xanadu

by chuckofish

Samuel Taylor Coleridge, a leader of the British Romantic movement and famous opium addict, was born on this day in 1772, in Devonshire, England.

In honor of his birthday, here is one of his famous poems to read aloud.

Kubla Khan Or a Vision in a Dream. A Fragment

In Xanadu did Kubla Khan

A stately pleasure-dome decree:

Where Alph, the sacred river, ran

Through caverns measureless to man

Down to a sunless sea.

So twice five miles of fertile ground

With walls and towers were girdled round;

And there were gardens bright with sinuous rills,

Where blossomed many an incense-bearing tree;

And here were forests ancient as the hills,

Enfolding sunny spots of greenery.

But oh! that deep romantic chasm which slanted

Down the green hill athwart a cedarn cover!

A savage place! as holy and enchanted

As e’er beneath a waning moon was haunted

By woman wailing for her demon-lover!

And from this chasm, with ceaseless turmoil seething,

As if this earth in fast thick pants were breathing,

A mighty fountain momently was forced:

Amid whose swift half-intermitted burst

Huge fragments vaulted like rebounding hail,

Or chaffy grain beneath the thresher’s flail:

And mid these dancing rocks at once and ever

It flung up momently the sacred river.

Five miles meandering with a mazy motion

Through wood and dale the sacred river ran,

Then reached the caverns measureless to man,

And sank in tumult to a lifeless ocean;

And ’mid this tumult Kubla heard from far

Ancestral voices prophesying war!

The shadow of the dome of pleasure

Floated midway on the waves;

Where was heard the mingled measure

From the fountain and the caves.

It was a miracle of rare device,

A sunny pleasure-dome with caves of ice!

A damsel with a dulcimer

In a vision once I saw:

It was an Abyssinian maid

And on her dulcimer she played,

Singing of Mount Abora.

Could I revive within me

Her symphony and song,

To such a deep delight ’twould win me,

That with music loud and long,

I would build that dome in air,

That sunny dome! those caves of ice!

And all who heard should see them there,

And all should cry, Beware! Beware!

His flashing eyes, his floating hair!

Weave a circle round him thrice,

And close your eyes with holy dread

For he on honey-dew hath fed,

And drunk the milk of Paradise.

If you prefer, here is the great Sir Ralph Richardson reciting the poem: 

http://www.dailymotion.com/video/xjn7vh_samuel-taylor-coleridge-kubla-khan-ralph-richardson_creation

3 Comments

September 20, 2014

“The only books that influence us are those for which we are ready…”

by chuckofish

While it’s true that the internet abounds with unnecessary top-ten lists, they persist because they are fun and cause us to reflect a little as we compose our own. Recently I came across one that inspired me to think about the books that influenced me most — the ones that, to finish the quote above, “have gone a little farther down our particular path than we have yet got ourselves.” So here they are — hopefully without repeating too much from earlier posts about books — in no particular order.

1. I don’t know how or why my parents (or was it my brother?) had a copy of this book, but as soon as I opened it, I was smitten. In many ways, this book inspired me to become an Assyriologist. I still have it.

2. I’ve blogged about Seven Pillars before, so won’t add too much here. Suffice it to say that reading this just added to my fascination with the Near East, which was, after all, so much more exotic than St. Louis. And besides, camel-riding sounded like it would be fun.

3. My fourth grade Sunday school teacher was Mrs. Roeder, whom I revered. She was beautiful and oh, so kind. She made me want to go to church and that was also the year we received our Bibles. I read all of the Gospels. It kind of freaked me out (more than once I figured I was headed to hell), but it had a big impact.

4. Sometimes when I couldn’t decide what to read or just didn’t feel like undertaking a whole book, I would just dip into the Oxford Book of English Verse or its American counterpart. Thus, I not only became acquainted with the major poets, but developed some taste (of a decidedly adolescent nature I’m sure, but taste nonetheless).

5. Sometimes I didn’t feel like reading at all, so I just looked at pictures. That’s probably why I picked up the Assyrian Art book in the first place. Looking at pictures gave me an appreciation of art and an abiding love of buildings, especially ruined ones. The last book my mother ever gave me (birthday 1987) was a book on the Chateau of the Loire Valley. She always knew what I would love.

There are many books I’ve discussed in other posts and still more I should mention, but I think I’ll stop here for now. I hope that you will reflect a little on your own reading history and then share your top most influential books in a comment.

Enjoy your weekend!

7 Comments

August 4, 2014

The very top of summer

by chuckofish

“The first week of August hangs at the very top of summer, the top of the live-long year, like the highest seat of a Ferris wheel when it pauses in its turning. The weeks that come before are only a climb from balmy spring, and those that follow a drop to the chill of autumn, but the first week of August is motionless, and hot. It is curiously silent, too, with blank white dawns and glaring noons, and sunsets smeared with too much color.”

–Natalie Babbitt, Tuck Everlasting

How was your weekend? Mine went super fast, starting with my Friday night when, after an exhausting day, I sat down to watch Cat Ballou and promptly fell asleep. No great loss, but there went my Friday night!

Saturday I went to a baby shower-(!)-given by the friend of the first soon-to-be-a-grandma of my friends.

Time marches on–relentlessly.

I watched a good documentary about the Ghost Army in WWII suggested by my dual personality.

The documentary tells about a 1944 secret U.S. Army unit that was set up in order to misdirect the Nazis. The weapons used included inflatable tanks and specially made sound effects records. Their mission was to use deceit to fool the enemy into thinking there were troops where there were none. It worked to an amazing degree. Fascinating!

I worked on my DIY project in an upstairs bathroom–removing wallpaper and glue. The worst. My career as a hand model is officially over.

I continued to read about Ned Kelly and started a memoir of a pioneer Presbyterian minister who established the first protestant church on the western slope (in Lake City, CO).

Ned Kelly, as portrayed by the wonderful Peter Carey is an engaging enough character, but the rest of the Australian population, in particular the Irish element, are rather dreadful. I will persevere because Carey writes so well. Unfortunately we all know it will end badly for our anti-hero and there is nothing Kelly can do about it. Oh well.

The Rev. George Darley was truly an amazing man. He ministers to his flock, leads temperance meetings, raises money, conducts funerals for all sorts of characters, and treks back and forth over the San Juan mountains in all kinds of terrible weather. And he has a sense of humor:

“Before going far my swearing acquaintance seemed disposed to enliven the hard ride of almost sixty miles by having some fun at ‘the Parson’s’ expense. He finally called out: ‘Parson, this is not the road to heaven.’ Being already loaded, I answered: ‘No, but there are plenty of such men as you on like trails going to hell, and I am doing what I can to save them.’ That ended his attempts to have fun at the ‘Parson’s’ expense.”

Have a great week!

6 Comments

July 31, 2014

I look down deep and do believe

by chuckofish

Moby Dick by Rockwell Kent

(Ahab) “Oh, grassy glades! oh, ever vernal endless landscapes in the soul; in ye,–though long parched by the dead drought of the earthly life,–in ye, men yet may roll, like young horses in new morning clover; and for some few fleeting moments, feel the cool dew of life immortal in them. Would to God these blessed calms would last. But the mingled, mingling threads of life are woven by warp and woff; calms crossed by storms, a storm for every calm. There is no stead unretracing progress in this life; we do not advance through fixed graduations, and at the last one pause:–through infancy’s unconscious spell, boyhood’s thoughtless faith, adolescence’s doubt (the common doom), then skepticism, then disbelief, resting at last in manhood’s pondering repose of If. But once gone through, we trace the round again; and are infants, boys, and men, and Ifs eternally. Where lies the final harbor, whence we unmoor no more? In what rapt ether sails the world, of which the weariest will never weary? Where is the foundling’s father hidden? Our souls are like those orphans whose unwedded mothers die in bearing them: the secret of our paternity lies in their grave, and we must there to learn it.”

And the same day, too, gazing far down from his boat’s side into that same golden sea. Starbuck lowly murmured:–“Loveliness unfathomable, as ever lover saw in his young bride’s eye!–Tell me not of thy teeth-tiered sharks, and thy kidnapping cannibal ways. Let faith oust fact; let fancy oust memory; I look deep down and do believe.”

Tomorrow is Herman Melville’s birthday, so take a break today and read some Moby-Dick!

6 Comments

July 16, 2014

What are you reading?

by chuckofish

Once again I found myself casting about for something to read over the weekend. I picked Susan Cheever’s memoir of her father John Cheever (May 27, 1912 – June 18, 1982) from the bookshelf. I received it as a Christmas present in 1984.

So I have been reading Home Before Dark again and enjoying it very much. Old John Cheever, the “influential twentieth century fiction writer affectionately known as ‘the Chekhov of the suburbs,'” is such a familiar type of dude to me–the waspy, literate Yankee gentleman who is also a terrible alcoholic.

I mean look at him in his shetland sweater. He was even a practicing Episcopalian who said grace before every meal! So familiar. Like my own pater, he made to age 70, but just barely.

It’s true that this “brilliant chronicler of American suburbia” led a tortured double life filled with sexual guilt, self-loathing and immense quantities of booze. Unfortunately his bad behavior went way beyond drinking too much. But I really think Susan Cheever could have stopped after writing her first memoir. Did she need to write another? Cheever’s son Ben has edited a collection of his letters. And they sold his journals in an auction. He has been turned inside out. Does anyone deserve this?

Anyway, I bought a used copy of The Stories of John Cheever and I will re-acquaint myself with his writing, which is what we should remember old Cheever for, right? I will resist reading Blake Baily’s 700-page Cheever: A Life which chronicles every sordid detail and secret of his life. Enough already.

An aged man is but a paltry thing, a tattered coat upon a stick, unless he sees the bright plumage of the bird called courage–Cardinalis virginius, in this case–and oh how his heart leapt.

–John Cheever, Oh What a Paradise it Seems

3 Comments

June 5, 2014

“This must be Thursday,’ said Arthur to himself, sinking low over his beer. ‘I never could get the hang of Thursdays.”*

by chuckofish

I am a bit confused about what day it is. After a week away from the office, the amount of emails and phone messages and out-of-context requests is daunting. You know how it is.

Anyway, I was pleased to find out that today is the birthday of Richard McClure Scarry (June 5, 1919 – April 30, 1994), illustrator extraordinaire and children’s book author.

I loved his books when I was growing up and collected them long after I was considered to be of an appropriate age to read them.

I am not alone in this. Scarry is arguably the most popular children’s book author of all time. In a career that spanned four decades, he wrote and illustrated more than three hundred books and it is estimated that he has sold more than 200 million copies in over twenty languages. Scarry is most famous for writing a series of books about Busytown, a fictional town populated with a variety of anthropomorphic animals. Some of the main characters include Huckle Cat, Lowly Worm, Bananas Gorilla, Hilda Hippo, and Farmer Fox.

The great thing about his books is that they can be read over and over and studied and enjoyed.

The boy reading about Busytown

Well, his books have been very successful and to some of us they are timeless, but, of course, they had to be “updated” to make them more politically and gender correct.

According to Wikipedia, characters in “cowboy” or “indian” costumes were either removed or given nondescript clothing. Moral and religious elements were altered or removed, and wording like “he comes promptly when called to his breakfast” was changed to “he goes to the kitchen to eat his breakfast”. And so on and so on.

Oh gee whiz.

Dated maybe, but offensive? Discuss amongst yourselves.

*Douglas Adams. The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy

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dual personalities

Tag: reading

January 18, 2016

Speaking of mothers

by chuckofish

August 24, 2015

The whole armor of God

by chuckofish

January 3, 2015

Start as you mean to go on — 2015 edition

by chuckofish

October 30, 2014

“Everything passes, only the truth remains.”*

by chuckofish

October 21, 2014

In Xanadu

by chuckofish

September 20, 2014

“The only books that influence us are those for which we are ready…”

by chuckofish

August 4, 2014

The very top of summer

by chuckofish

July 31, 2014

I look down deep and do believe

by chuckofish

July 16, 2014

What are you reading?

by chuckofish

June 5, 2014

“This must be Thursday,’ said Arthur to himself, sinking low over his beer. ‘I never could get the hang of Thursdays.”*

by chuckofish