Archive by Author | Sherry

Semicolon: Twelve Best Books I Read in 2007

Dec28

The Speed of Dark by Elizabeth Moon: “When he has the opportunity to participate in an experimental treatment that may change the way his brain functions and eliminate his autistic symptoms, Lou must decide whether he wants to be “normal.” Without his autism, will he still be himself, or will he become someone else? If the latter, does he want to be that other person? Will he lose the ability to analyze complex patterns and to pair those patterns of color and shape with music and with fencing, his outlet for self-expression? How much of who Lou is is bound up with his autism and with his past experience of overcoming the difficulties of being autistic in a “normal” world?”


Excellent Women by Barbara Pym: “I’ve never read anything by Barbara Pym before, but I found her book, Excellent Women, to be reminiscent of Jane Austen (drolly observant), Mrs. Gaskell’s Cranford (insightful in regard to the ordinary), and even Jane Eyre, without the drama, but with the wry self-analysis.”

Dissolution by C.J. Sansom. I didn’t actually get this one reviewed, but I did like it. The link is to a review of another book in the series, Sovereign.

A Garden to Keep by Jamie Langston Turner. “The book jumps back and forth between past and present, profound and mundane, in a very satisfying way, just as real people think and weave thoughts about the realities of living with thoughts about the meaning of it all.”

Winds of War by Herman Wouk. I never got around to posting my review of this one. It’s a good story, a favorite of my pastor and his family.

All the King’s Men by Robert Penn Warren. “The book is much more than Huey Long renamed and fictionalized, however. It’s an exploration of how power corrupts, of how we’re all, as Willie says, ‘conceived in sin and born in corruption.'”


Enchantment by Orson Scott Card. “If you’re interested in retellings of fairy tales or in medieval historical fiction, Enchantment is one of the best of either I’ve read. It’s an adult or young adult book with some (married) sexual descriptions and innuendos.”

The Mysterious Benedict Society by Trenton Lee Stewart. I really enjoyed this Cybils nominee, a story of adventure and intrigue in which four chidren save the world from disaster.

The Middle of Somewhere by J.B. Cheaney. Another Cybils nominee. I even got to interview Ms. Cheaney, lots of fun.

Isle of Swords by Wayne Thomas Batson. “Isle of Swords is a rip-roaring pirate story in the tradition of POTC, but not too derivative. I think those who enjoy a fast-paced adventure story will love it. It is somewhat violent, so if that bothers you . . . Otherwise, read it over the holidays while it snows outside and dream of high-seas adventure in the tropics.”

Leepike Ridge by N.D. Wilson. “This take-off on Tom Sawyer, Robinson Crusoe, and The Odyssey should also appeal to boys especially. It has caves, tunnels, hidden treasure, wild water rafting, and wilderness (sort of) survival. There are bad guys, good guys, dead guys, blood, raw food, and near-dismemberment. What more could a boy want in a book?”

Leap of Faith by Kimberly Brubaker Bradley. “How many children’s books can you name that are actually about the process of coming to faith, without being preachy or proselytizing? There’s The Bronze Bow, Newbery Award winning historical fiction by Elizabeth Speare from fifty years ago. What else?”

I see that that they’re all twelve fiction.

I read a lot of fiction.

I did enjoy some nonfiction this year, but I suppose the fiction won out.

Semicolon: Twelve Best Posts of 2007

Dec27

LOST Rehash: Flashes Before Your Eyes: “I don’t think the writers of LOST have left room for a God who is in control of the Universe and yet allows human beings to make real choices. A God who is powerful enough and intelligent enough could weave corrections into the predetermined plan for the universe without making human choice into a farce. It’s the only path I see between determinism and chaos. But I’m no philosopher.”

Classic Iconic Movie Festival. “Way back in March, over spring break, Eldest Daughter and I held our own movie festival. She had some recommendations from friends who were fans of old movies, and we watched several of the movies on her list. For some of the movies the other young adults in the house joined us. Here are my impressions.”

Lazy Days of Homeschool. In May, our school year at Meriadoc Homeschool winds down not with a bang, but a dam.

Projected, a post about all the projects that I started (and mostly didn’t finish) during the first half of 2007. Oh, well, there’s always 2008, the good Lord willing and the creek don’t rise.

Under the Radar: Christian Fiction. “Christian fiction” has gotten a bad rap, partially deserved. Some so-called “Christian fiction” (just like some YA fiction and some post-modern fiction) is nothing more than a bad sermon disguised as an even worse story. However, some of the fiction published by Christian publishing houses is not only exemplary and literary, but also just good reading.

Under the Radar: An Adult Fiction Trio. Don Camillo, Andrea Orsini, and Rima the Bird Girl: if you don’t recognize the naes of these fictional characters, you should. They’re all fascinating characters from popular fiction of the past.

Balance: Sometime I would love a glimpse into your daily life…how much time you give to reading and writing AND schooling your own children.
Do your children understand the time Mom gives to books and writing? Mine are 5-11 and I worry they see me staring at a book or screen more than anything else. Someone asked, and I attempted an answer.

The Rule of Six, or Seven or Eight: Melissa even says that “Miss (Charlotte) Mason believed children needed three things every day: something to love, something to think about, and something to do.” So educator Charlotte Mason started with three things each day, Melissa made it six, and I’m making my own list of ????

A Madeleine L’Engle Annotated Bibliography. Ms. L’Engle died in September, and I remembered her with a series of posts and links. This bibliography was one of them.

Apples in the Bible. I also celebrated apples in September. Apples in the BIble was one of the polsts from that series.

Mike Huckabee: It’s Time to Support a Conservative Values Candidate. The title is self-explanatory. I still think it’s time.

Things That Scare Me: In this post, I admitted my deepest fears in public, on the internet. I must be a brave person.

Read Togethers: Cybil Nominees Paired and Grouped by Topics and Themes

Dec26

Adoption from another culture: When Heaven Fell by Carolyn Marsden (Vietnam) and Kimchi and Calamari by Rose Kent (Korea).

Appreciating and defending one’s cultural heritage in a sometimes hostile world: Celeste’s Harlem Renaissance by Eleanora E. Tate (African-American), Penina Levine Is a Hard-Boiled Egg by Rebecca O’Connell (Jewish-American), Bearwalker by Joseph Bruchac (Native American), Kimchi and Calamari by Rose Kent (Korean American).

Aspiring actor/actress: Leap of Faith by Kimberly Brubaker Bradley and Clarice Bean, Don’t Look Now by Lauren Child.

Aspiring pianists: A Crooked Kind of Perfect by Linda Urban and The Rising Star of Rusty Nail by Lesley M.M. Blume.

Aspiring writers: The Wild Girls by Pat Murphy and The Qwikpick Adventure Society by Sam Riddleburger.

Baseball: Edward’s Eyes by Patricia Maclachlan and The Aurora County All-Stars by Deborah Wiles.

Best friends break up (boys): The Aurora County All-Stars by Deborah Wiles and The Thing About Georgie by Lisa Graff.

Best friends break-up (girls): Emma-Jean Lazurus Fell Out of a Tree by Lauren Tarshis, A Crooked Kind of Perfect by Linda Urban, The Secret Identity of Devon Delaney by Lauren Barnholdt and If a Tree Falls at Lunch Period by Gennifer Choldenko.

Best friend moves away: My Last Best Friend by Julie Bowes, Clarice Bean, Don’t Look Now by Lauren Child, and Tall Tales by Karen Day.

Boy/friend mentored by girl’s dad: The Queen of 33rd Street and the Broken Bike Boy by Sharon Flake and A Crooked Kind of Perfect by Linda Urban.

Boys against girls: The Lemonade War by Jacqueline Davies and No Talking by Andrew Clements.

Cross-cultural understanding: Camel Rider by Prue Mason, Kimchi and Calamari by Rose Kent, Home of the Brave by Katherine Applegate, When Heaven Fell by Carolyn Marsden.

Dad has mental health issues: Letters from Rapunzel by Sara Lewis Holmes (clinical depression), Louisiana’s Song by Kerry Madden (brain damage), and A Crooked Kind of Perfect by Linda Urban (agoraphobia?).

Dad is abusive or borderline abusive: Tall Tales by Karen Day and The Wild Girls by Pat Murphy.

Dad skips out or is missing: The Friskative Dog by Susan Straight, Leepike Ridge by N.D. Wilson, and Bird Springs by Carolyn Marsden.

Dad/daughter relationship is particularly loving and strong: A Crooked Kind of Perfect by Linda Urban, The Queen of 33rd Street and the Broken Bike Boy by Sharon Flake, The Wild Girls by Pat Murphy, Rickshaw Girl by Mitali Perkins, Isle of Swords by Thomas Wayne Batson, Seeing Sky Blue Pink by Candice Ransom.

Diary/journal form (there should be a word for this form of fiction): Diary of a Wimpy Kid by Jeff Kinney, Lucy Rose: Working Myself to Bits and Pieces by Katy Kelley, Dear Jo by Christina Kilbourne, Bearwalker by Joseph Bruchac, Ms. Zephyr’s Notebook by K.C. Dyer, Ellie McDoodle: Have Pen, Will Travel by Ruth Barshaw.

Dog stories: Cracker: The Best Dog in Vietnam by Cynthia Kadohata and The Friskative Dog by Susan Straight.

Elderly caretaker relative has a stroke: Reaching for Sun by Tracie Vaughn Zimmer and Celeste’s Harlem Renaissance by Eleanora E. Tate.

Elderly, eccentric friend: The Queen of 33rd Street and the Broken Bike Boy by Sharon Flake and Perch, Mrs. Sackets, and Crow’s Nest by Karen Pavlicin.

Epistolary novels: Letters from Rapunzel by Sara Lewis Holmes and Regarding the Bees by Kate Klise.

Girl goes to a psychiatrist: Dear Jo by Christian Kilbourne and Leap of Faith by Kimberly Brubaker Bradley.

Girl living in poverty in Southeast Asia: Rickshaw Girl by Mitali Perkins and When Heaven Fell by Carolyn Marsden.

Girls with somewhat limited social skills: The Lemonade War by Jacqueline Davies, Emma-Jean Lazarus Fell Out of a Tree by Lauren Tarshis, and The Queen of 33rd Street and the Broken Bike Boy by Sharon Flake.

Girls pursuing popularity: The Secret Identity of Devon Delaney by Lauren Barnholdt, The Social Experiments of Dorie Dilts: Dumped by Popular Demand by P.G. Kain, Freak by Marcella Pixley.

Guy and girl develop an ambiguously platonic friendship: The Social Experiments of Dorie Dilts: Dumped by Popular Demand by P.G. Kain, The Queen of 33rd Street and the Broken Bike Boy by Sharon Flake, Perch, Mrs. Sackets, and Crow’s Nest by Karen Pavlicin, The Wild Girls by Pat Murphy, Reaching for Sun by Tracie Vaughn Zimmer, Ms. Zephyr’s Notebook by K.C. Dyer, Leap of Faith by Kimberly Brubaker Bradley, Home of the Brave by Katherine Applegate, Lucy Rose: Working Myself to Bits and Pieces by Katy Kelley, Qwikpick Adventure Society by Sam Riddleburger, The Middle of Somewhere by J.B. Cheaney, Way Down Deep by Ruth White, A Crooked Kind of Perfect by Linda Urban, Celeste’s Harlem Renaissance by Eleanora Tate, Isle of Swords by Wayne Thomas Batson. (Is this a required element in middle school/middle grade fiction?)

Horse stories: Paint the Wind by Pam Munoz Ryan and Annie, The Morgan Horse by Ellen F. Feld.

Imaginary friends: Annie’s War by Jacqueline Levering Sullivan, Cassie Was Here by Caroline Hickey, and Bird Springs by Carolyn Marsden.

Kids try to find a way to earn (beg, borrow or steal) a lot of money for a good purpose: The Lemonade War by Jacqueline Davies, How To Steal a Dog by Barbara O’Connor, Lucy Rose: Working Myself to Bits and Pieces by Katy Kelley, and Letters from Rapunzel by Sara Lewis Holmes, Rickshaw Girl by Mitali Perkins.

Large families: Louisiana’s Song by Kerry Madden and Edward’s Eyes by Patricia Maclachlan.

Mean boy (bully) at school: Clarice Bean, Don’t Look Now by Lauren Childs, The Social Experiments of Dorrie Dilts: Dumped by Popular Demand by P.G. Kain,

Mean girl (usually popular) at school: The Secret Identity of Devon Delaney by Lauren Barnholdt, If a Tree Falls at Lunch Period by Gennifer Choldenko, The Friskative Dog by Susan Straight, The Rising Star of Rusty Nail by Lesley M.M. Blume, Lucy Rose: Working Myself to Bits and Pieces by Katy Kelley, Freak by Marcella Pixley.

New kid in town/school must make new friends: Tall Tales by Karen Day, The Secret Identity of Devon Delaney by Lauren Barnholdt, Cassie Was Here by Caroline Hickey, The Social Experiments of Dorie Dilts: Dumped by Popular Demand by P.G. Kain and Wild Girls by Pat Murphy.

Older brother headed for serious trouble/in rebellion: Middle School Is Worse Than Meatloaf by Jennifer Holm, The Wild Girls by Pat Murphy, Tall Tales by Karen Day, Louisiana’s Song by Kerry Madden.

Orphans: Paint the Wind by Pam Munoz Ryan, The Mysterious Benedict Society by Trenton Lee Stewart, Miss Spitfire by Sarah Miller, Way Down Deep by Ruth White.

Overcoming and living with physical challenges: The Thing about Georgie by Lisa Graff and Reaching for Sun by Tracie Vaughn Zimmer.

Parents in marital counseling: The Wild Girls by Pat Murphy and The Secret Identity of Devon Delaney by Lauren Barnholdt.

Poetic novels: Reaching for Sun by Tracie Vaughn Zimmer, Home of the Brave by Katherine Applegate, Chess Rumble by G. Neri, The Cat on the Mat Is Flat by Andy Griffiths.

Protagonist is a spoiled, selfish brat: Camel Rider by Prue Mason and The Broken Bike Boy and the Queen of 33rd Street by Sharon Flake.

Protagonist must stay with an eccentric relative while his/her single parent recovers from illness or accident: “>The Middle of Somewhere by J.B. Cheaney and Celeste’s Harlem Renaissance by Eleanora E. Tate.

Single parent, only child: Celeste’s Harlem Renaissance by Eleanora E. Tate, The Wild Girls by Pat Murphy, Annie’s War by Jacqueline Levering Sullivan, Isle of Swords by Thomas Wayne Batson, Reaching for Sun by Tracie Vaughn Zimmer, Bearwalker by Joseph Bruchac, Perch, Mrs. Sackets, and Crow’s Nest by Karen Pavlicin, The Friskative Dog by Susan Straight, Emma-Jean Lazarus Fell Out of a Tree by Lauren Tarshis, Leepike Ridge by N.D. Wilson.

Spies: Clarice Bean, Don’t Look Now by Lauren Child, The Mysterious Benedict Society by Trenton Lee Stewart, and Kiki Strike: The Empress’s Tomb by Kirsten Miller.

Stuffed animal is a girl’s best friend: The Friskative Dog by Susan Straight and Seeing Sky Blue Pink by Candice Ransom.

Telling lies/deception: Tall Tales by Karen Day, The Secret Identity of Devon Delaney by Lauren Barnholdt, The Broken Bike Boy and the Queen of 33rd Street by Sharon Flake, Lucy Rose: Working Myself to Bits and Pieces by Katy Kelley, and Kimchi and Calamari by Rose Kent, Emma-Jean Lazarus Fell Out of a Tree by Lauren Tarshis.

Impossible Christmas

Dec24

Re-posted from Christmas Eve, 2005:

I was thinking this afternoon about nursing, as in breastfeeding, as in feeding a baby. And I had the startling (to me) thought that Mary actually put Baby Jesus, not a doll, to her breast and fed him, fed him milk. Then I remembered that before she did that, she delivered him in the normal, messy, bloody way in a stable without a doctor or an epidural or even a nurse holding her hand and reminding her to push. She wrapped the God-baby in clothes and laid him in a feedbox and sat down or lay down in the hay on the floor beside him to rest. Joseph probably cleaned up, swept, maybe tried to find some water to wash things up a little.

It’s all a little too . . . physical, isn’t it? The Word became flesh and dwelt among us. The “Word” part gives me a little distance, a little spirituality, but the rest of the verse gets all fleshy again. Dwelt among us implies He lived a typically human life, ate and drank, bled when he cut himself, relieved himself, itched, scratched, slept, maybe snored. What an impossible thing to believe in. I actually believe that the God of the Universe, the God who created the Universe, who rules it, confined himself first to a human womb, then to a human body, then to death and a tomb. At least I believe it when I don’t think about it too much. When I do ponder the physicality of it all, it seems impossible.

I saw the Narnia movie this afternoon, and I noticed that twice the characters used the word “impossible.” As the children enter Narnia together, Susan experiences the coldness of the snow and the branches scratching her and breathes, “Impossible!” It’s so real, so physical, so undeniable, but “impossible.” Then later the White Witch looks up to see the True King of Narnia confronting her, the king she thought she had murdered, and she exclaims, “Impossible!’ He is so real, so physical, so undeniable, yet impossible.

Impossible that He should entrust Himself to the womb of a young country girl from the hick-town of Nazareth.
Impossible that He should travel through the birth canal and place himself in a body, helpless to walk or communicate or even care for his own physical needs.
Impossible that He should suck at his mother’s breast to sustain the life of that very needy body.
Impossible that He should grow in wisdom and in stature and in favor with God and man.
Impossible that He should laugh and cry and feel love and joy and anger and despair.
Impossible that He should share food and conversation and hugs and kisses with a group of human friends, one of whom turned out to be an enemy.
Impossible that He should die.
Even more impossible that He should die and then live–forever.

So real, so physical, so undeniable, so impossible. Only the God of the Impossible could inhabit such a story and make it a physical reality, and only by doing so could He intersect my very physical life and make me believe, know in my bones, the Reality of His love and joy and forgiveness and healing.

I pray for you this Christmas that the Impossible becomes Truth in your physical life where you are sitting and reading these words now.

May you have an Impossible Christmas.

Waiting Time

Dec24

The Annunciation to the Shepherds



While shepherds watched their flocks by night,
All seated on the ground,
The angel of the Lord came down,
And glory shone around,
And glory shone around.

“Fear not!” said he, for mighty dread
Had seized their troubled mind.
“Glad tidings of great joy I bring
To you and all mankind
To you and all mankind.

“To you, in David’s town, this day
Is born of David’s line
A Savior, who is Christ the Lord,
And this shall be the sign,
And this shall be the sign.

“The heavenly Babe you there shall find
To human view displayed,
All meanly wrapped in swathing bands,
And in a manger laid,
And in a manger laid.”

Thus spake the seraph and forthwith
Appeared a shining throng
Of angels praising God on high,
Who thus addressed their song,
Who thus addressed their song:

“All glory be to God on high,
And to the Earth be peace;
Good will henceforth from Heaven to men
Begin and never cease,
Begin and never cease!”

We sang this carol in church this morning, and I started thinking about the shepherds. Seeing the angels and the baby and hearing the promise of a saviour was probably the pivotal event of their lives. I doubt if anything so exciting and awe-inspiring had ever happened to them before, nor probably would it again. The Bible says that after seeing the baby the shepherds “returned, glorifying and praising God for all the things that they had heard and seen, as it was told unto them.”

And then? The shepherds went home or back to the fields to check on the sheep. They told some people, family and friends, what they had seen and experienced. Some people believed them; others thought they were drunk or participants in a mass hallucination of insane proportions. And then? Nothing. Nothing else happened. The angels promised that a Saviour had been born, The Annointed One (Christ), Adonai (the Lord). They sang about God’s favor resting on men. But after all the hoopla was over with, what really happened? Nothing happened . . . for thirty years. (Other than a massacre of young boys —Matthew 2:16-18— hardly a sign of God’s favor!) The baby and his parents left Bethlehem, and the shepherds went back to their sheep.

We can read what happened next in the next few chapters of Luke or Matthew and get the impression that the angels said it and God immediately did it. But there were approximately thirty years between the birth of Jesus and the beginning of his ministry. The shepherds were all grown men with beards by the time they heard anything about that baby, now a grown man too, and some of them probably died while waiting for the fulfillment of the angels’ promise. The Romans still ruled; the tax collectors still collected the taxes; the Law was still an impossible burden to fulfill.

Isn’t that the way it is for us, too? We experience an epiphany, a connection with God himself. We get a message or a promise. We glorify and praise God for the great things He has done. And then . . . . nothing. It’s back to the sheep, back to the laundry, back to the quotidian tasks of an average life. We thought everything would be different now, after such an experience, but it all looks and feels about the same. Maybe our responses to situations are different, but hardly anyone notices. And as time goes on, we can feel ourselves settling back into the familiar patterns of daily life, wondering if anything that spectacular really did happen. Maybe we did just imagine it all.

But the angels were real. The baby was a real baby who grew into a real Saviour, Christ the Lord. Yes, things didn’t look much different after the birth of the Christ Child, but underneath the surface everything had changed. We live in the waiting time, between the promise and the fulfillment. And the time between Chapter 1 and Chapter 2 of the story feels like a long wait. We’re tempted to doubt the Word, even to despair in the face of continued evil and suffering and waiting. But the Bible says, “Don’t give up!” “Unto us a Child is born, and unto us a Son is given.”

Advent has been a time of waiting for the coming of the Christ Child, and each year we reenact that time of preparation. Then Christmas comes, and what’s really changed? The world revolves, and we go on waiting. It’s tempting to give up, to think that God’s promises will be held in abeyance forever. But even if death overtakes each one of us before the Time is fulfilled and Evil is defeated forever, it’s only the time between the ending of one chapter and the beginning of the next. Such a short time really.

1 Peter 1:3-8: Praise be to the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ! In his great mercy he has given us new birth into a living hope through the resurrection of Jesus Christ from the dead, and into an inheritance that can never perish, spoil or fade—kept in heaven for you, who through faith are shielded by God’s power until the coming of the salvation that is ready to be revealed in the last time. In this you greatly rejoice, though now for a little while you may have had to suffer grief in all kinds of trials. These have come so that your faith—of greater worth than gold, which perishes even though refined by fire—may be proved genuine and may result in praise, glory and honor when Jesus Christ is revealed. Though you have not seen him, you love him; and even though you do not see him now, you believe in him and are filled with an inexpressible and glorious joy, for you are receiving the goal of your faith, the salvation of your souls.

Merry Christmas to all pass through here as you wait on the revelation of the promise of God. May your New Year be filled with an inexpressible and glorious joy even as you wait and hope for the final goal of peace on earth, good will to men on whom God’s favor rests!

Reposted from Christmas, 2006.

A Highland Christmas by M.C. Beaton

Dec23

Earlier this year I read M.C. Beaton’s latest Hamish Macbeth mystery, book number 23 in the series, Death of a Maid. It was the first book in the series that I’d read, and although I enjoyed it, I never got around to reviewing it here. What I remember about it now was the denouement which involved large mobs of people in a comic stand-off with the government and Hamish Macbeth, a policeman in a small Scottish village, having to navigate his way between the villagers and the forces of officialdom.

At the beginning of December when I wrote about Rex Stout’s birthday and gave a list of Christmas-themed mysteries, Cindy of Dominion Family suggested Ms. Beaton’s Christmas story also featuring Policeman Macbeth. It’s short (129 pages), sweet, and perfect for a gentle holiday read. No one dies, a nice change from the book I read just previous to this one in which scores of people die in a particularly nasty mass murder. All we have here is a lost cat, a little girl who has never been allowed to celebrate Christmas, and a Christmas concert at the old folks’ home. Oh, and Hamish Macbeth stumbles into and out of a sort of a dating relationship, which seems to be his wont as far as I can tell from the two books featuring this detective that I’ve read.

I think I’ll pick up another Hamish Macbeth novel from time to time and immerse myself in a gently droll picture of a Scots highland village with a bit of mystery to stir the pot. (However, the others do have “death” in the title and are in that way more traditional murder mysteries.)

First paragraphs of A Highland Christmas by M.C. Beaton:

More and more people each year are going abroad for Christmas. To celebrate the season of goodwill towards men, British Airways slams an extra one hundred and four pounds on each air ticket. But the airports are still jammed.

For so many people are fleeing Christmas. . . .

But in Lochdubh, in Sutherland, in the very far north of Scotland, there is nothing to flee from. Christmas, thought Hamish Macbeth gloomily, as he walked along the waterfront, his shoulders hunched against a tearing wind, was not coming to Lochdubh this year any more than it had come the previous years.”

A Highland Christmas, rather than being a traditional murder mystery, is the story of how Christmas came one year to Lochdubh in spite of the leftover spirit of John Knox which “still wandered, blasting anyone with hellfire should they dare to celebrate this heathen festival.”

A Pickwickian Christmas

Dec22

I wish you a Pickwickian Christmas full of “bluff and hearty honesty” and “hospitality” and “merriment and open-heartedness” and “feasting and revelry” and “mutual goodwill” and “unalloyed delight”. Sentimental Victorian maybe, but no one does Christmas quite like Dickens!

As brisk as bees, if not altogether as light as fairies, did the four Pickwickians assemble on the morning of the twenty-second day of December, in the year of grace in which these, their faithfully-recorded adventures, were undertaken and accomplished. Christmas was close at hand, in all his bluff and hearty honesty; it was the season of hospitality, merriment, and open-heartedness; the old year was preparing, like an ancient philosopher, to call his friends around him, and amidst the sound of feasting and revelry to pass gently and calmly away. Gay and merry was the time; and right gay and merry were at least four of the numerous hearts that were gladdened by its coming.

And numerous indeed are the hearts to which Christmas brings a brief season of happiness and enjoyment. How many families, whose members have been dispersed and scattered far and wide, in the restless struggles of life, are then reunited, and meet once again in that happy state of companionship and mutual goodwill, which is a source of such pure and unalloyed delight; and one so incompatible with the cares and sorrows of the world, that the religious belief of the most civilised nations, and the rude traditions of the roughest savages, alike number it among the first joys of a future condition of existence, provided for the blessed and happy! How many old recollections, and how many dormant sympathies, does Christmas time awaken!

Poetry and Fine Art Friday: ‘Jest Fore Christmas

Dec20

Every year at Christmas time, my mom would quote this poem to me and my sister. And I quote it or read it to my children. There’s no escaping the legacy of a mom who quotes poetry.

JEST ‘FORE CHRISTMAS
BY Eugene Field

Father calls me William, sister calls me Will,
Mother calls me Willie, but the fellers call me Bill!
Mighty glad I ain’t a girl—ruther be a boy,
Without them sashes, curls, an’ things that’s worn by Fauntleroy!
Love to chawnk green apples an’ go swimmin’ in the lake—
Hate to take the castor-ile they give for bellyache!
‘Most all the time, the whole year round, there ain’t no flies on me,
But jest ‘fore Christmas I’m as good as I kin be!

Got a yeller dog named Sport, sick him on the cat;
First thing she knows she doesn’t know where she is at!
Got a clipper sled, an’ when us kids goes out to slide,
‘Long comes the grocery cart, an’ we all hook a ride!
But sometimes when the grocery man is worrited an’ cross,
He reaches at us with his whip, an’ larrups up his hoss,
An’ then I laff an’ holler, “Oh, ye never teched me!”
But jest ‘fore Christmas I’m as good as I kin be!

Gran’ma says she hopes that when I git to be a man,
I’ll be a missionarer like her oldest brother, Dan,
As was et up by the cannibuls that lives in Ceylon’s Isle,
Where every prospeck pleases, an’ only man is vile!
But gran’ma she has never been to see a Wild West show,
Nor read the Life of Daniel Boone, or else I guess she’d know
That Buff’lo Bill an’ cowboys is good enough for me!
Excep’ jest ‘fore Christmas, when I’m good as I kin be!

And then old Sport he hangs around, so solemnlike an’ still,
His eyes they seem a-sayin’: “What’s the matter, little Bill?”
The old cat sneaks down off her perch an’ wonders what’s become
Of them two enemies of hern that used to make things hum!
But I am so perlite an’ tend so earnestly to biz,
That mother says to father: “How improved our Willie is!”
But father, havin’ been a boy hisself, suspicions me
When, jest ‘fore Christmas, I’m as good as I kin be!

For Christmas, with its lots an’ lots of candies, cakes, an’ toys,
Was made, they say, for proper kids an’ not for naughty boys;
So wash yer face an’ bresh yer hair, an’ mind yer p’s and q’s,
An’ don’t bust out yer pantaloons, and don’t wear out yer shoes;
Say “Yessum” to the ladies, and “Yessur” to the men,
An’ when they’s company, don’t pass yer plate for pie again;
But, thinkin’ of the things yer’d like to see upon that tree,
Jest ‘fore Christmas be as good as yer kin be!

Rube Again

Dec20

My urchins were busy in the bathroom for an hour yesterday, making their own Rube Goldberg contraption that turned on the water to the sink when you opened the door. It wasn’t nearly as complicated as this one:

Today they’re working with their Daddy on another one.