writers | dual personalities

June 6, 2016

“People are crazy and times are strange”*

by chuckofish

True to my word, I did very little this weekend. I went to hear Nathaniel Philbrook. He gave a rousing talk about Benedict Arnold and the Saratoga campaign.

He signed his book for me and I am looking forward to reading it. In the meantime I re-read his Why Read Moby-Dick? which I highly recommend.

I watched The Italian Job (2003) which I had bought for $2 at an estate sale because of the Mini Coopers. I really enjoyed it.

It made me want to go out and drive fast, but I restrained myself.

I tore apart my office looking for a particular book and then had to clean it up. (I never found the book.)

I rescued another needlepoint pillow.

I spread a lot of mulch and exhausted myself. Sometimes it is a good feeling to exhaust oneself doing physical labor. Watching a baseball game on the couch afterwards is that much sweeter when it is earned.

I also watched Wonder Boys (2000) directed by Curtis Hanson, who is one of my favorite directors. Bob Dylan won the Oscar for Best Song and “Things Have Changed” is indeed a classic. It is a good movie and I like Michael Douglas as a college professor having a really bad day.

Now it is Monday again–onward and upward!

*Bob Dylan

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May 26, 2016

Happy belated birthday, Mr. Zimmerman

by chuckofish

As you probably already know, Tuesday was Bob Dylan’s 75th birthday.

Thank goodness, he is still going strong and has just released Fallen Angels, his 37th LP and second straight album of American Songbook classics.

So in honor of his big day let’s listen to one of my favorites from 1981:

Dylan described “Every Grain of Sand” as “an inspired song that just came to me … I felt like I was just putting words down that were coming from somewhere else.”

In the time of my confession, in the hour of my deepest need
When the pool of tears beneath my feet flood every newborn seed
There’s a dyin’ voice within me reaching out somewhere
Toiling in the danger and in the morals of despair

Don’t have the inclination to look back on any mistake
Like Cain, I now behold this chain of events that I must break
In the fury of the moment I can see the Master’s hand
In every leaf that trembles, in every grain of sand

Oh, the flowers of indulgence and the weeds of yesteryear
Like criminals, they have choked the breath of conscience and good cheer
The sun beat down upon the steps of time to light the way
To ease the pain of idleness and the memory of decay

I gaze into the doorway of temptation’s angry flame
And every time I pass that way I always hear my name
Then onward in my journey I come to understand
That every hair is numbered like every grain of sand

I have gone from rags to riches in the sorrow of the night
In the violence of a summer’s dream, in the chill of a wintry light
In the bitter dance of loneliness fading into space
In the broken mirror of innocence on each forgotten face

I hear the ancient footsteps like the motion of the sea
Sometimes I turn, there’s someone there, other times it’s only me
I am hanging in the balance of the reality of man
Like every sparrow falling, like every grain of sand

Copyright © 1981 by Special Rider Music

Because we’re just pilgrims passing through after all.

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May 16, 2016

“O Lord, how manifold are your works!” *

by chuckofish

Happy Pentecost! How was your weekend?

We went to the last lacrosse game of the season on Friday after work and enjoyed sitting outside on a beautiful day, watching the game and the people around us. We never talked to the boy but the OM took a few pictures of him across the field with his giant lens.

On Saturday I went to several estate sales, including one in the lovely home of the brother of a former president of the U.S. His wife died a few months ago and I suppose he is down-sizing–you know, the kids took what they wanted and they were getting rid of the rest. The house was lovely and unpretentious, full of familiar things (books and LPs and monogrammed towels) and comfortable in an old school, slightly shabby way–just my style. They even had one of these–our family totem:

(I didn’t buy his, because I have already given one to each of my children.) I did buy an old child’s chair, which had been chewed by a family dog, and a BCP.

A good morning’s outing to be sure.

I finished Nightwoods by Charles Frazier and I highly recommend it. Good characters, tightly paced–well done. I am now reading Hope Leslie written by Catharine Maria Sedgwick in 1827, encouraged by daughter #2 who has read all of Sedgwick’s oeuvre for her dissertation. I am pleasantly surprised to report that Sedgwick is a regular Jane Austen, writing with a wry humor about “early times in Massachusetts.” Indeed the action takes place in the early seventeenth century and explores the “tumultuous relations between Puritans and Pequots.” I love this scene, described in a letter, where the fourteen-year old son pokes fun at an Anglican newcomer during a storm:

But Dame Grafton was beside herself. At one moment she fancied we should be the prey of the wild beast, and at the next, that she heard the alarm yell of the savages. Everell brought her, her prayer-book, and affecting a well-beseeming gravity, he begged her to look out the prayer for distressed women, in imminent danger of being scalped by North American Indians. The poor lady, distracted with terror, seized the book, and turned over leaf after leaf. Everell meanwhile affecting to aid her search. In vain I shook my head, reprovingly, at the boy–in vain I assured Mistress Grafton that I trusted we were in no danger; she was beyond the influence of reason; nothing allayed her fears, till chancing to catch a glance of Everell’s eye, she detected the lurking laughter, and rapping him soundly over the ears with her book, she left the room greatly enraged.

Now that is funny. “The prayer for distressed women, in imminent danger of being scalped by North American Indians.” I already like this Catherine Maria Sedgwick a lot.

The rest of the weekend was spent pleasantly puttering around, working in the yard, eating the donuts that my friend from Atlanta brought to me at work on Friday (he was in town for the air show)–note they are the “right” donuts–

and going to a garden party in support of the Shakespeare Festival St. Louis.

It was held at our friend’s 1867 house high up overlooking the mighty Mississippi…

There was even a bassett hunt.

Not bad for a stay-at-home introvert!

*Psalm 104

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May 13, 2016

Weekend plans

by chuckofish

We have had a rainy, stormy week, but the forecast for the weekend is good. I plan to take it easy and prepare for next weekend when I am going to my niece’s wedding in Pennsylvania.

“I’ll read my books and I’ll drink coffee and I’ll listen to music, and I’ll bolt the door.”

–J.D. Salinger, A Boy in France: Saturday Evening Post CCXVII, March 31, 1945

Sounds like a plan to me.

(The painting is by Thomas Hart Benton)

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May 11, 2016

Mid-week meditation

by chuckofish

“[All the ancient wisdom] tells us that work is necessary to us, as much a part of our condition as mortality; that good work is our salvation and our joy; that shoddy or dishonest or self-serving work is our curse and our doom. We have tried to escape the sweat and sorrow promised in Genesis – only to find that, in order to do so, we must forswear love and excellence, health and joy.”

–Wendell Berry, The Art of the Commonplace: The Agrarian Essays, “The Unsettling of America”

The wood engraving is by Clare Leighton – Scything, 1935

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May 6, 2016

“It is not enough to be industrious; so are the ants.”

by chuckofish

Today we note again the anniversary of the death of Henry David Thoreau in 1862.

Let us not forget these wise words:

The fate of the country does not depend on how you vote at the polls — the worst man is as strong as the best at that game; it does not depend on what kind of paper you drop into the ballot-box once a year, but on what kind of man you drop from your chamber into the street every morning.

—Slavery in Massachusetts

Hear, hear!

Have a good weekend. Happy Mother’s Day!

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May 4, 2016

Mid-week pep talk

by chuckofish

Henry and William James, brothers, early 20th century

“Now, my dear little girl, you have come to an age when the inward life develops and when some people (and on the whole those who have most of a destiny) find that all is not a bed of roses. Among other things there will be waves of terrible sadness, which last sometimes for days; irritation, insensibility, etc., etc., which taken together form a melancholy. Now, painful as it is, this is sent to us for an enlightenment. It always passes off, and we learn about life from it, and we ought to learn a great many good things if we react on it right. (For instance, you learn how good a thing your home is, and your country, and your brothers, and you may learn to be more considerate of other people, who, you now learn, may have their inner weaknesses and sufferings, too.) Many persons take a kind of sickly delight in hugging it; and some sentimental ones may even be proud of it, as showing a fine sorrowful kind of sensibility. Such persons make a regular habit of the luxury of woe. That is the worst possible reaction on it. It is usually a sort of disease, when we get it strong, arising from the organism having generated some poison in the blood; and we mustn’t submit to it an hour longer than we can help, but jump at every chance to attend to anything cheerful or comic or take part in anything active that will divert us from our mean, pining inward state of feeling. When it passes off, as I said, we know more than we did before. And we must try to make it last as short a time as possible. The worst of it often is that, while we are in it, we don’t want to get out of it. We hate it, and yet we prefer staying in it—that is a part of the disease. If we find ourselves like that, we must make something ourselves to some hard work, make ourselves sweat, etc.; and that is the good way of reacting that makes of us a valuable character. The disease makes you think of yourself all the time; and the way out of it is to keep as busy as we can thinking of things and of other people—no matter what’s the matter with our self.”

–William James, (January 11, 1842 – August 26, 1910), American philosopher and psychologist

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May 3, 2016

Happiness is…

by chuckofish

“For some of us, books are as important as almost anything else on earth. What a miracle it is that out of these small, flat, rigid squares of paper unfolds world after world after world, worlds that sing to you, comfort and quiet or excite you. Books help us understand who we are and how we are to behave. They show us what community and friendship mean; they show us how to live and die.”

―Anne Lamott, Bird by Bird: Some Instructions on Writing and Life

I have a pile of new and vintage books to read.

What is better than that? A window with a nice view. Maybe someone bringing you a cup of tea or making dinner for you?

I guess I am getting old, but that sounds very good to me.

3 Comments

April 29, 2016

“Heroic, is it? Bedad, it’s epic! Ye begin to perceive the breadth and depth of my genius.”*

by chuckofish

Today is the birthday of author Rafael Sabatini (April 29, 1875 – February 13, 1950). He was born in Italy, the son of an English mother and an Italian father–both opera singers, which explains a lot.

Sabatini wrote in English, and all in all, he produced 31 novels, eight short story collections, six non-fiction books, numerous uncollected short stories, and a play. I think I read Scaramouche way back when, but he is best known these days because of two great movies and a bunch of other not-so-great movies, which were inspired by his novels. I’m thinking, of course, of Captain Blood (1935)

and The Sea Hawk (1940)

both starring Errol Flynn and directed by Michael Curtiz.

But we mustn’t forget Scaramouche (1952) which starred Stewart Granger

and The Black Swan (1942) with Tyrone Power–

both not as good despite being filmed in flaming technicolor. (There are also quite a few old silent movies based on his adventure novels.)

Anyway, I suggest we all watch movies this weekend inspired by the stories of Rafael Sabatini. We could do a lot worse. I vote for Captain Blood which is full of action and good dialogue:

Arabella Bishop: Oh, forgive me for not recognizing you, Dr. Blood. You’re so changed… and for the better.

Dr. Peter Blood: The Governor tells me I have you to thank for that.

Arabella Bishop: You don’t sound very grateful, Dr. Blood.

Dr. Peter Blood: Do you suppose I’d be grateful for an easy life, when my friends are treated like animals? Faith, it’s they deserve your favors, not I. They’re all honest rebels. I was snoring in my bed while they were trying to free England from an unclean tyrant [King James].

Arabella Bishop: I believe you’re talking treason.

Dr. Peter Blood: I hope I’m not obscure.

Have a great weekend!

*Captain Blood by Rafael Sabatini

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April 20, 2016

It’s my birthday and I’ll wear a crown if I want to

by chuckofish

“Age has given me what I was looking for my entire life – it has given me me . It has provided time and experience and failures and triumphs and time-tested friends who have helped me step into the shape that was waiting for me. I fit into me now. I have an organic life, finally, not necessarily the one people imagined for me, or tried to get me to have. I have the life I longed for. I have become the woman I hardly dared imagine I would be.”

–Anne Lamott, Plan B: Further Thoughts on Faith

Daughter #2 arrives this evening and daughter #1 tomorrow morning. My brother and sister are coming to town on Friday!

Safe, smooth travels to all. Margaritas all around!

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