dual personalities

Tag: writers

“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.pierre bear

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

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.

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Dated maybe, but offensive? Discuss amongst yourselves.

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

I tramp a perpetual journey

by chuckofish

Saturday, by the way, is Walt Whitman’s birthday–May 31, the last of the amazing birthday month of May!

walt-whitmanI will be out of town, so I thought I would give you a little W.W. today so you can think ahead and plan your celebration.

I know I have the best of time and space, and was never measured and never will be measured.

I tramp a perpetual journey, (come listen all!)
My signs are a rain-proof coat, good shoes, and a staff cut from the woods,
No friend of mine takes his ease in my chair,
I have no chair, no church, no philosophy,
I lead no man to a dinner-table, library, exchange,
But each man and each woman of you I lead upon a knoll,
My left hand hooking you round the waist,
My right hand pointing to landscapes of continents and the public road.

Not I, not any one else can travel that road for you,
You must travel it for yourself.

It is not far, it is within reach,
Perhaps you have been on it since you were born and did not know,
Perhaps it is everywhere on water and on land.

–Walt Whitman, Song of Myself, 46

Oh, man, isn’t he the best?

By the dim and flaring lamps

by chuckofish

Today is Memorial Day and also John Wayne’s birthday!

You can watch war movies all day on TCM. Twelve O’Clock High (1949)–one of my favorites is on tonight, followed by another great one, The Best Years of Our Lives (1946).

Or you can choose to watch John Wayne movies.

mustache_bigEither way, have a good day and take some time to remember the men and women who died while serving in the U.S. armed forces.

Here is a great rendition of The Battle Hymn of the Republic, written by Julia Ward Howe in 1861 to the tune of “John Brown’s Body”:

Have you ever read all the lyrics to this wonderful hymn? Well, here they are:

Mine eyes have seen the glory of the coming of the Lord;

He is trampling out the vintage where the grapes of wrath are stored;

He hath loosed the fateful lightning of His terrible swift sword:

His truth is marching on.

I have seen Him in the watch-fires of a hundred circling camps,

They have builded Him an altar in the evening dews and damps;

I can read His righteous sentence by the dim and flaring lamps:

His day is marching on.

I have read a fiery gospel writ in burnished rows of steel:

“As ye deal with my contemners, so with you my grace shall deal”;

Let the Hero, born of woman, crush the serpent with his heel,

Since God is marching on.

He has sounded forth the trumpet that shall never call retreat;

He is sifting out the hearts of men before His judgment-seat:

Oh, be swift, my soul, to answer Him! be jubilant, my feet!

Our God is marching on.

In the beauty of the lilies Christ was born across the sea,

With a glory in His bosom that transfigures you and me.

As He died to make men holy, let us die to make men free,

While God is marching on.

He is coming like the glory of the morning on the wave,

He is Wisdom to the mighty, He is Succour to the brave,

So the world shall be His footstool, and the soul of Time His slave,

Our God is marching on.

(Chorus)

Glory, glory, hallelujah!

Glory, glory, hallelujah!

Glory, glory, hallelujah.

Our God is marching on.

And here is a special prayer from the BCP for today:

ALMIGHTY God, our heavenly Father, in whose hands are the living and the dead; We give thee thanks for all those thy servants who have laid down their lives in the service of our country. Grant to them thy mercy and the light of thy presence, that the good work which thou hast begun in them may be perfected; through Jesus Christ thy Son our Lord. Amen.

 

Happy Friday–like the blast of a trumpet!

by chuckofish

This Friday has been a long time coming–what a long week! But we have a three-day weekend coming up, so it’s all good.

FYI May has been a big month for birthdays already and this weekend we have two more favorites: Bob Dylan (May 24) on Saturday

BOB

and Ralph Waldo Emerson (May 25) on Sunday!

ralph

Those are two great reasons to celebrate this weekend! One good way to do so would be to re-read Self Reliance, which I have been meaning to do–how about you?

“Is it so bad, then, to be misunderstood? Pythagoras was misunderstood, and Socrates, and Jesus, and Luther, and Copernicus, and Galileo, and Newton, and every pure and wise spirit that ever took flesh. To be great is to be misunderstood.”

–Ralph Waldo Emerson, Self Reliance

Another way would be to watch No Direction Home (2005)–a film chronicle of Bob Dylan’s evolution between 1961 and 1966 from folk singer to rock star. Directed by Martin Scorsese, it uses archival footage and recent interviews to tell the story of the illusive Bob, who refuses “to be simplified, classified, categorized, or finalized”. And why should he be? He is, like Emerson and those other guys mentioned above, a “pure and wise spirit,” both great and misunderstood.

Dylan and Emerson are certainly on the same page. Here’s Bob:

‘Trust yourself
Trust yourself to do the things that only you know best
Trust yourself
Trust yourself to do what’s right and not be second-guessed
Don’t trust me to show you beauty
When beauty may only turn to rust
If you need somebody you can trust, trust yourself’

How Emersonian can you get?

So enjoy your weekend and trust yourself. Eat cake.

In full bloom

by chuckofish

gabrielgarciamarquez

“Age has no reality except in the physical world. The essence of a human being is resistant to the passage of time. Our inner lives are eternal, which is to say that our spirits remain as youthful and vigorous as when we were in full bloom. Think of love as a state of grace, not the means to anything, but the alpha and omega. An end in itself.”

Gabriel Garcia Marquez– Love in the Time of Cholera

I’m with you, Gabe.

“Things happen and we do our best to keep in the saddle.”*

by chuckofish

How was your weekend? Mine was relatively quiet and low-key. No socializing, no trips downtown, no eating out. Just a lot of puttering about in the house and garden. The weather was lovely–cool and sunny.

The OM and I attempted to go to the boy’s play-off game, but we went to the wrong school. We drove around the Priory campus wondering where everyone was. It never occurred to our befuddled minds that it was, indeed, a HOME game. We surrendered and went home. C’est la vie.

I contemplated staying in bed and reading on Sunday morning, but I went to church because I remembered that I had given the altar flowers in memory of my parents and my friend Irene. They were very nice.

The church does not list, thank you

The church does not list, thank you…but I guess I do.

One of the readers was a scion of what we used to call a “socially-prominent” flyover family–does anyone say that anymore?–who makes a practice of wearing old baggy blue jeans to church. Furthermore, he looks like he has been wearing the same pair all week while driving his tractor around the south forty. I suppose we should be happy he tucks his shirt in. He has the flowing locks and facial hair of someone who would have fit right in with Bedford Forrest at Shiloh. I don’t know why this always bothers me, but it does. I mean, c’mon.

Besides the regular sermon, there was a children’s sermon given by our choir director to a group of younguns who scampered up to the chancel to sit on the floor and listen attentively. At the end he led them in song and they were adorable and quite amusing. They cheered me up. There is one little girl who can answer every question posed and belts out every hymn like a mini Martha Raye. If this child doesn’t grow up to be something special, I’ll eat my hat.

In the afternoon I read outside–a most unusual and lovely pastime.

readingoutside

In conclusion I should note that seventy-nine years ago, at the age of 46, T.E. Lawrence, better known as “Lawrence of Arabia”, was fatally injured in an accident on his motorcycle in Dorset. Six days later (on May 19) he died.

tel motor

Lawrence on his Brough Superior SS100

He was buried in Dorset. There is a memorial in the very old Anglo-Saxon Church of St. Martin

lawrence8and a memorial bust in the crypt of St.Paul’s Cathedral.

Lawrence_Bust_in_St._PaulI will leave it to my dual personality, who has read a lot more than I about T.E. and has visited his resting place, to write about him sometime, but I thought we should take note of his passing.

He was a gallant soldier and a Christian gentleman and more than worthy of a toast to that effect tonight.

*T.E.L.  I had this quote on my senior page. It could be my mantra.

“Time flies over us, but leaves its shadow behind.” *

by chuckofish

image-memory

According to Wikipedia, “memory is the process in which information is encoded, stored, and retrieved. Encoding allows information that is from the outside world to reach our senses in the forms of chemical and physical stimuli. In this first stage we must change the information so that we may put the memory into the encoding process. Storage is the second memory stage or process. This entails that we maintain information over periods of time. Finally the third process is the retrieval of information that we have stored. We must locate it and return it to our consciousness. Some retrieval attempts may be effortless due to the type of information.”

I have been thinking about memory a lot lately. Probably because that pesky “retrieval” process is becoming such a pain.

Perhaps recently experiencing a reunion has made me more than usually aware of this. People remember different things and they remember those things differently.

Class Day rehearsal--I am   so "in character" as my pater.

Class Day rehearsal–I am so “in character” as my pater. As I remember it,  I was awesome.

Also, looking back over my years as a mother, I realize that so much of my children’s “wonder years” are a blur. A real blur. If it weren’t for snapshots, would I remember anything?

marysue

I think I need to make more of an effort here. Take some notes. I need to be more intentional about thinking.

Here’s Frederick Buechner on the subject:

“The time is ripe for looking back over the day, the week, the year, and trying to figure out where we have come from and where we are going to, for sifting through the things we have done and the things we have left undone for a clue to who we are and who, for better or worse, we are becoming. But again and again we avoid the long thoughts….We cling to the present out of wariness of the past. And why not, after all? We get confused. We need such escape as we can find. But there is a deeper need yet, I think, and that is the need—not all the time, surely, but from time to time—to enter that still room within us all where the past lives on as a part of the present, where the dead are alive again, where we are most alive ourselves to turnings and to where our journeys have brought us. The name of the room is Remember—the room where with patience, with charity, with quietness of heart, we remember consciously to remember the lives we have lived.” (A Room Called Remember)

I think our culture is becoming less and less intentional about thinking. Everything is presented in a shorter (and shorter) format. Our brains bounce back and forth from subject to subject. Focusing is hard. What will the result of all this be I wonder?

Discuss among yourselves.

*Nathaniel Hawthorne

And that’s my opinion from the blue, blue sky

by chuckofish


photo

“I felt once more how simple and frugal a thing is happiness: a glass of wine, a roast chestnut, a wretched little brazier, the sound of the sea. Nothing else.”  

–Nikos Kazantzakis, Zorba the Greek


“Dead men tell no tales, Mary.”*

by chuckofish

“He took her face in his hands and kissed it, and she saw that he was laughing. “When you’re an old maid in mittens down at Helford, you’ll remember that,” he said, “and it will have to last you to the end of your days. ‘He stole horses,’ you’ll say to yourself, ‘and he didn’t care for women; and but for my pride I’d have been with him now.”

― Daphne du Maurier, Jamaica Inn

Happy birthday to Dame Daphne du Maurier (13 May 1907 – 19 April 1989)!

dumaurier4602

According to IMDB, “Daphne Du Maurier was one of the most popular English writers of the 20th Century, when middle-brow genre fiction was accorded a higher level of respect in a more broadly literate age. For her services to literature, she was made a Dame Commander of the Order of the British Empire in 1969, the female equivalent of a knighthood.” In other words, they don’t write them like she did anymore.

Yes, it may be time to dust off Jamaica Inn or Frenchman’s Creek. I wish they would do justice to her books on film, but I haven’t seen any that really come close to her prose power. The Birds maybe. I must say, they keep trying. Check out all the versions here.

*Jamaica Inn, of course

 

All shall be well

by chuckofish

What could be better than Julian of Norwich and the Moody Blues on Friday?

It was Julian’s day on the Episcopal Calendar yesterday. I am a big fan. She is “venerated” in the Anglican and Lutheran churches, but has never been officially beatified by the R.C. church. Oh, really, you say?

Anyway, she was born in England about 1342 during the time of the Black Death. When she was thirty years old, she became gravely ill and was expected to die. Then, on the seventh day, the medical crisis passed, and she had a series of fifteen visions, or “showings,” in which she was led to contemplate the Passion of Christ. These brought her great peace and joy.

Julian on the west front of Norwich Cathedral

Julian on the west front of Norwich Cathedral

She became an anchoress–a person called to a solitary life, but one that was not cut-off from the world, but one anchored in it. Her life was one of prayer, contemplation and counseling, a life highly thought of by people of the time. Her home was a small room, or cell, attached to the Church of S. Julian, Bishop of Le Mans, just off one of the main streets of Norwich. The results of her meditations she wrote in a book called Revelations of Divine Love.

And from the time that [the vision] was shown, I desired often to know what our Lord’s meaning was. And fifteen years and more afterward I was answered in my spiritual understanding, thus: ‘Would you know your Lord’s meaning in this thing? Know it well, love was his meaning. Who showed it to you? Love. What did he show you? Love. Why did he show it? For love. Keep yourself therein and you shall know and understand more in the same. But you shall never know nor understand any other thing, forever.’

Thus I was taught that love was our Lord’s meaning. And I saw quite clearly in this and in all, that before God made us, he loved us, which love was never slaked nor ever shall be. And in this love he has done all his work, and in this love he has made all things profitable to us. And in this love our life is everlasting. In our creation we had a beginning. But the love wherein he made us was in him with no beginning. And all this shall be seen in God without end …

Immagine

I have read her wonderful meditations and let’s just say there was a whole lot of hi-lighting going on.

I have a busy weekend planned. How about you?