To buy a skirt=torture: “My mental state slams into disaster mode. My eyes cross, my vision blurs. I feel unworthy, angry, and giddy all at once, at the same time as trying to get a grip. This is only the first store, and I can’t go home yet! I think of how annoyed at myself I will be if the day of the special occasion comes, and I have to assemble an outfit out of the stained, pilled rags and bags I already have at home. So I begin to try things on.”
This post at Conversion Diary details my opinion on shopping exactly. It’s not therapy; it’s torture.
Archive by Author | Sherry
Poetry Friday: John Betjeman
John Betjeman, Poet Laureate of England from 1972 to his death in 1984, was born on this date in 1906. He was a poet born out of his time, in a way; his poetry sounds more like that of Thomas Hardy or even one of his favorite poets, William Cowper, than it does the poets of the twentieth century, T.S. Eliot and his ilk. (“A precocious writer of verse, at the age of 10 Betjeman presented the manuscript of ‘The Best Poems of John Betjeman’ to his favourite teacher at Highgate, ‘the American master’, Mr T S Eliot.”) Betjeman studied at Oxford with C.S. Lewis, and according to this article, JB (as he was called) rather blamed Lewis for Betjeman’s failure to receive a degree from that institution.
JB, in addition to writing poetry, was a journalist, an editor, a broadcaster, and a film critic. He also campaigned tirelessly for the preservation of the architectural heritage of Britain, making appearances on radio and television to promote this cause. His poetry has a great sense of place and setting, probably due to his love for architecture and for history.
Here are the first two stanzas of his poem, Verses Turned . . .:
Across the wet November night
The church is bright with candlelight
And waiting Evensong.
A single bell with plaintive strokes
Pleads louder than the stirring oaks
The leafless lanes along.
It calls the choirboys from their tea
And villagers, the two or three,
Damp down the kitchen fire,
Let out the cat, and up the lane
Go paddling through the gentle rain
Of misty Oxfordshire.
Go here to read the rest of this quiet ecclesiastical poem about the church’s endurance.
Links to more Betjeman poems:
Myfanwy
Trebetherick
Back From Australia
Inexpensive Progress
Middlesex
Felixstowe, or The Last of Her Order.
A Subaltern’s Love Song
Youth and Age on Beaulieu River
Diary of a Church Mouse
Delightful poet. Very British and somewhat “churchy.” But not too serious or full of himself. I like his poetry very much. It’s unfortunate that he and Lewis couldn’t get along; they may be laughing about their erstwhile feud in heaven now.
In her Poetry Friday round-up post, Book Aunt remembers poet Karla Kuskin, who died last week leaving a legacy of playful poetry.
Secret Places
Peter Sieruta at Collecting Children’s Books writes about The Velvet Room by Zilpha Keatley Snyder in which “Robin, the middle child in a large migrant family finds her special place in the tower room library of an otherwise abandoned estate. On the bookshelves, Robin discovers an old diary that helps her unravel the mystery of the estate’s long-missing heir.”
I started thinking about other books for children in which the protagonist finds a secret place where he or she can read and think and imagine and play pretend and grow.
Mandy by Julie Edwards. Mandy finds an abandoned cottage where she can make a pretend home of her own, but will keeping her secret make her lose the friendship and love of those who care about her?
The Secret Garden by Frances Hodgson Burnett. Mary, a spoiled orphan child raised in India, finds both solace and friendship in a secret garden on her aunt’s estate. The little girls have been listening to the Focus on the Family radio drama production of this classic, and I’ve enjoyed rediscovering it along with them.
Bridge to Terabithia by Katherine Paterson. Jesse and Leslie create a secret kingdom in the woods where they fight off enemies and crown themselvs king and queen of Terabithia.
In Patricia St. John’s Rainbow Garden, Elaine is sent to live with a family in the English countryside while her mother goes to work in France. Elaine is selfish and bitter, but she experiences healing and forgiveness in her garden.
The View From the Cherry Tree by Willo Davis Roberts. Rob Mallory has his own secret hiding place in the cherry tree, but spying on the neighbors from the branches of the cherry tree turns out to be a dangerous occupation.
Jean Craighead George wrote My Side of the Mountain in which Sam Gribley runs away to the Catskill Mountains and builds himself a secret home inside an old tree.
In their very first adventure The Boxcar Children (Gertrude Chandler Warner) find an old deserted boxcar where they make their home. This part of the story was most intriguing to me as a little girl: how do you make a home out of found objects out in the woods, no money or very little, lots of ingenuity?
Of course, the Magic Treehouse kids have . . . well, a Magic Treehouse.
Now that I think about it these are only the books in which the “secret place” itself is a central issue in the story; lots of other characters in children’s books have their own special places to get away from the fray:
Huckleberry Finn has an island and later his raft.
Tom Sawyer had a cave.
The Little Princess (Frances Hodgson Burnett), Sara Crewe, had her own attic room.
Betsy-Bee reminds me that the girls in Ursula Nordstrom’s The Secret Language not only had a secret language; they also had a fort with a little swimming pool inside (?).
I’ve always been quite fond of nooks and clubhouses and secret hiding places in books and in real life. What others can you think of?
Ramadan Prayer
Sunday, August 22, was the beginning of the Muslim observance of Ramadan, a time of prayer and fasting for Muslims around the world. It was also the beginning of a now-annual effort on the part of Christians around the world to pray especially for Muslims. If you want to join in this concert of prayer during the 30 days of Ramadan, you can find a prayer guide here.
The first day’s devotional thoughts were particularly convicting and useful:
Faith is important, but do I also love Muslims? What is my
most profound reaction when I meet them, when I see them
on television? How would I react if a man in Islamic clothing
came to my church? How would I react if a new believer from
a Muslim background wanted to marry into my family? Would
I be willing to give a thousand dollars so someone could proclaim
the Gospel among Muslims? Would I be willing to sit and
eat with a Muslim in a crowded restaurant? Have I been involved
in criticizing them without knowing them? Am I fearful
of Muslims? Is my main attitude toward them one of mistrust?
Am I able to do as Jesus says, “You shall love your neighbor as
yourself� Is this my desire, is this my goal?
I know that some Muslims might find this prayer focus offensive or patronizing. Please know that this time of prayer is about “Christians learning about, and praying for our world’s Muslim neighbors during their holy month of Ramadan; doing so in humility, and without fear or ill-intent.”
May God, the Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, reveal Truth to us all and help us to know how to love each other.
Dough: A Memoir by Mort Zachter
Dough: A Memoir by Mort Zachter. Recommended by Lisa at 5 Minutes for Books.
This book is a sort of sad memoir about two brothers who ran a bread store in New York City’s Lower East Side for most of their lives. The book is written by the brothers’ nephew, their sister’s son. Unfortunately, the brothers, Harry and Joe, while good at making money were not so good at sharing with their hard-working family members or even being honest with them about the extent of their wealth. It’s only after Uncle Joe dies and Uncle Harry becomes completely incapacitated that Mort Zachter finds out about his uncles’ hoard: both valuables and junk all mixed together in a cheap apartment where Joe and Harry lived an extremely frugal, even miserly, life for more than sixty years. And all the while they were storing up riches, not in heaven, but on earth where the money did no one any good.
Mr. Zachter tries to understand his uncles and their obsession with making money and keeping it secret. He fails, finally, to make sense of his uncles’ lives, but he does come to appreciate their quirks even while he wishes that they could have lived somewhat differently, enjoying their hard-earned wealth and even sharing it with the family. (Mr. Zachter’s mom served as an unpaid worker in her brothers’ store for many, many years and never knew how rich they were.)
It’s a bittersweet story, not terribly exciting, but thought-provoking in its examination of attitudes toward money and material things.
Ice Skating and Reading
My 15 year old friend, David, told me something the other day that made me sad. He said that he never reads books, unless it’s assigned for school, NEVER! He says he hates to read.
Since Brown Bear Daughter communicated my concern (squealed on me) to David, he came back and told me today that he is reading a book now that’s not for school: a biography about Russian ice skater Ekaterina Gordeeva and her late husband, also an ice skater. He says it’s a really good book, and he shared some information he had learned from the book about Russian skaters in general. You see, my friend David is an aspiring ice skater.
This semi-conversion on David’s part to the world of reading confirms a theory, not original with me. Almost everyone can be enticed to enjoy reading; you just have to find the right hook. Now I know David’s hook, or one of them at least, so can anyone direct me to some good books related to ice skating, appropriate for a 15 year old boy? He’s a good kid, so I figure if I don’t innundate him but just give him about one book a month, he’ll try them out for my sake.
What books would you give David the Ice Skater?
Sunday Salon: Adding Still More Books
I’m finding more books at yesterday’s Saturday Review that I must add to my TBR list. When I see you in heaven, I will be the one who’s still reading in a vain attempt to finish the list.
The Great Fire by Shirley Hazzard. Mindy says this one has joined her top twelve favorite novels list, so I have to read it.
A Fine Balance by Rohinton Mistry. Recommended at Kacie’s Mixed Media. I thought this novel, set in India, sounded like a good. long, satisfying read.
The Sweetness at the Bottom of the Pie by Alan Bradley. Recommended by The Indextrious Reader Word Lily, and a host of others.
Sacred Hearts by Sarah Dunant. Carrie says this one moves a little slowly at first, but I’m interested in the subject: convent life in Italy, not sure when.
I ran out of time to peruse any more reviews before I got through the entire Saturday Review last night, but I’m sure these plus the ones already on my TBR list will keep me busy until Kingdom Come.
The Best Bad Luck I Ever Had by Kristin Levine
Moundville, Alabama. 1917. Harry Otis Sims, nickname Dit:
“I’ve been wrong before. Oh, heck, if I’m being real honest, I’ve been wrong a lot. But I ain’t never been so wrong as I was about Emma Walker. When she first came to town, I thought she was the worst piece of bad luck I’d had since falling in the outhouse on my birthday.”
Dit is an engaging narrator, the middle child in a family of ten children, shaped by his culture and upbringing in rural Alabama, but willing to learn and to accept change. And change he does as he becomes friends with the new postmaster’s daughter, a girl, and what’s even more shocking, a “nigra” girl.
I liked the way this book was written with nuance and recognition of the complications of race relations in the Deep South. I wasn’t there (I’m not that old!), but this book describes the people of a small town in Alabama the way Harper Lee describes them in her classic, To Kill a Mockingbird. The people in Moundville are not all bad, not all racist to the bone, but they are crippled and held back by their heritage and their innate conservatism. Only Dit and his new friend Emma are able to see past the cultural racism that has ruled Moundville society since the Civil War, and they are able to right a wrong that could cost an innocent man his life.
This wonderful slice of life from the World War I era mentions several historical events and works them seamlessly into the story: the Spanish flu epidemic of 1918, the lynching of black men in the South during the 1910’s, the double standard for employing blacks even in the postal service, the young men going off to war to fight the Hun, a banana train from New Orleans, learning to drive a Model T, seeing one’s first airplane flight. I loved the way the history “lessons” blended into the story, and I can see this book being useful and beloved inside and outside the classroom.
Target ages: 10-14.
Could be enjoyed by readers age 10 through adult. Hey, I liked it.
Poetry Friday: Animal Crackers
Z-baby is memorizing this old chestnut by Christopher Morley for her first poem of the new school year:
Animal crackers and cocoa to drink,
That is the finest of suppers I think;
When I’m grown up and can have what I please
I think I shall always insist upon these.
What do YOU choose when you’re offered a treat?
When Mother says, “What would you like best to eat?”
Is it waffles and syrup, or cinnamon toast?
It’s cocoa and animals that I love most!
The kitchen’s the cosiest place that I know;
The kettle is singing, the stove is aglow,
And there in the twilight, how jolly to see
The cocoa and animals waiting for me.
Daddy and Mother dine later in state,
With Mary to cook for them, Susan to wait;
But they don’t have nearly as much fun as I
Who eat in the kitchen with Nurse standing by;
And Daddy once said, he would like to be me
Having cocoa and animals once more for tea!
Christopher Morley (1890-1957)
I had in my mind that this one was a Robert Louis Stevenson poem; it rather sounds like something of his. However, Mr. Morley was an American poet and writer, “one of the founders and long-time contributing editor of the Saturday Review of Literature” and also founder of the Baker Street Irregulars, the American Sherlock Holmes fan club. FDR and Harry Truman were both members of the BSI. Christopher Morley wrote two bookshop novels, Parnassus on Wheels(reviewed at Kate’s Book Blog) and The Haunted Bookshop. I’ve read the latter, but not the former, and I found it a bit Chestertonian, somewhat obscure at times but fun to read nevertheless.
From John Wesley’s Diary, 1768
Greatly disgusted at the manner of singing. 1. Twelve or fourteen persons kept it to themselves, and quite shut out the congregation: 2. These repeated the same words, contrary to all sense and reason six or eight or ten times over: 3. According to the shocking custom of modern music, different persons sang different words at one and the same moment: an intolerable insult on common sense, and utterly incompatible with any devotion.” Excerpted from Abide With Me: The World of Victorian Hymns by Ian Bradley.
Mr. Wesley wrote this criticism after a preaching visit to a parish church in Neath. He sounds just like the twentieth and twenty-first century critics of contemporary praise and worship music. There’s nothing new under the sun, is there?
I’m in a fine pickle as far as this hymn project is concerned—the reason you haven’t seen any new hymns in the Top 100 Hymn Project in the past few days. My computer, with the list of the survey results, died and won’t turn back on. The Apple store is holding my Mac hostage, and they say it may or may not be reparable. In the meantime, not only have I lost the survey results, I’ve also lost the syllabus and plans for the Texas history class that I’m supposed to teach for our homeschool co-op. I can’t get to our household budget, which was in dreadful need of revision anyway. All of my best recipes are inside that computer. All of the hymns I bought and loaded into iTunes as a result of the hymn project are trapped inside my Mac. I am bewildered and bumfuzzled, and I find myself exasperated with my own computer dependence.
Maybe there is something new under the sun, computer dependency, and it’s not good.
The people at the Apple store say they’ll give me a diagnosis and a verdict within a week to ten days.