Archive by Author | Sherry

Poetry Friday: Apple Pie and Cheese by Eugene Field

Sep20

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Full many a sinful notion
Conceived of foreign powers
Has come across the ocean
To harm this land of ours;
And heresies called fashions
Have modesty effaced,
And baleful, morbid passions
Corrupt our native taste.
O tempora! O mores!
What profanations these
That seek to dim the glories
Of apple-pie and cheese!

I’m glad my education
Enables me to stand
Against the vile temptation
Held out on every hand;
Eschewing all the tittles
With vanity replete,
I’m loyal to the victuals
Our grandsires used to eat!
I’m glad I’ve got three willing boys
To hang around and tease
Their mother for the filling joys
Of apple-pie and cheese!

Your flavored creams and ices
And your dainty angel-food
Are mighty fine devices
To regale the dainty dude;
Your terrapin and oysters,
With wine to wash ’em down,
Are just the thing for roisters
When painting of the town;
No flippant, sugared notion
Shall my appetite appease,
Or bate my soul’s devotion
To apple-pie and cheese!

The pie my Julia makes me
(God bless her Yankee ways!)
On memory’s pinions takes me
To dear Green Mountain days;
And seems like I see Mother
Lean on the window-sill,
A-handin’ me and brother
What she knows ‘ll keep us still;
And these feelings are so grateful,
Says I, “Julia, if you please,
I’ll take another plateful
Of that apple-pie and cheese!”

And cheese! No alien it, sir,
That’s brought across the sea,–
No Dutch antique, nor Switzer,
Nor glutinous de Brie;
There’s nothing I abhor so
As mawmets of this ilk–
Give me the harmless morceau
That’s made of true-blue milk!
No matter what conditions
Dyspeptic come to feaze,
The best of all physicians
Is apple-pie and cheese!

Though ribalds may decry ’em,
For these twin boons we stand,
Partaking thrice per diem
Of their fulness out of hand;
No enervating fashion
Shall cheat us of our right
To gratify our passion
With a mouthful at a bite!
We’ll cut it square or bias,
Or any way we please,
And faith shall justify us
When we carve our pie and cheese!

De gustibus, ‘t is stated,
Non disputandum est.
Which meaneth, when translated,
That all is for the best.
So let the foolish choose ’em
The vapid sweets of sin,
I will not disabuse ’em
Of the heresy they’re in;
But I, when I undress me
Each night, upon my knees
Will ask the Lord to bless me
With apple-pie and cheese!

What do you eat on top of your apple pie?

If you have an apple-y post to share —a picture, a story, a book, a recipe, anything about apples— leave a link, and we’ll celebrate apples together in the month of September.

Poetry Friday is hosted this week by Sara Lewis Holmes at Read Write Believe.

Sovereign by C.J. Sansom

Sep20

Here’s my very short (February 2007) review of Sansom’s first book in this Henrician* detective series, Dissolution:

Dissolution by C.J. Sansom A- Recommended by P.D. James. I really liked this one. I hope there will be more books about the detective Matthew Shardlake who works for Henry VIII’s Thomas Cromwell. Wait, I just checked Amazon, and there are sequels: one called Dark Fire and a new one called Sovereign.
Grumpy Old Bookman’s review of Dissolution.

I found the third book in the series, Sovereign, on the “new books” shelf at the library, and I checked it out, forgetting that there was a book between the new one and the one I read in February. It didn’t matter. Sovereign was an absorbing read, full of historical details and a plot that held my interest and kept me guessing until the very end of the book. Sansom’s detective, Matthew Shardlake is a hunchback lawyer with court connections who wants to live a peaceful, quiet life in the background of London’s courts and law offices. Instead, he is drafted by Archbishop Cranmer for a special assignment and sent to meet King Henry VIII as he and his court make a Great Progress through the north country of Yorkshire. Shardlake reluctantly accepts the job Cranmer gives him, as if he had much choice, and finds himself in more trouble than he could have imagined. Almost assassinated, accused of treason, witness to the betrayal of others, Shardlake must depend on his own wits and the faithfulness of old friends to save his life and his livelihood.

The most fascinating parts of the book dealt with the history of the Wars of the Roses, Richard III’s accession to the throne, and the usurpation of that same throne by the Tudors, all events that happened way before this story even begins. But the historical events cast a long shadow. In the book, Henry VIII, and Matthew Shardlake, are still dealing with the fallout of decisions that were made long before either man was born. Of course, the story reminded me of one of my favorite vindications of Richard III, Josephine Tey’s Daughter of Time. Sansom’s book is set in the England of Henry VIII, just after his marriage to his fifth wife, Catherine Howard. Nevertheless, both books share an interest in the details of the Tudor succession to the English throne and the legalities thereof. I can only imagine the amount of research that went into the writng of Sovereign since the period details are so rich and plenteous and seemingly verisimilar.

Matthew is an interesting hero/detective, too. He’s crippled, in body of course, but also emotionally. He finds it difficult to trust because of the suffering he’s had to endure all his life at the hands of those who make fun of his physical disability. Yet, he’s a man of integrity who hasn’t allowed his affliction to make him bitter or violent. Instead, he has sympathy for those who are mistreated, and he finds ways to excuse and forgive even the most grievous sins against him. Yet, he is shocked and moved to anger by injustice. And many times in the novel Shardlake’s desire for justice conflicts with his inclination toward mercy.

*Isn’t “Henrician” a wonderful word? I know “Elizabethan” and “Edwardian”, but I’d never heard of “Henrician” until I read the historical notes in the back of Sansom’s book. Unless, you’re talking or writing about the life and times of Henry VIII, the word is of limited use; nevertheless, I like it.

To This Great Stage of Fools: Born September 20th

Sep20

Upton Sinclair, b. 1878, socialist author of The Jungle, a novel about the meat-packing industry that resulted in passage of The Pure Food and Drug Act (1906) and The Meat Inspection Act (1906)).

Upton Sinclair, letter of resignation from the Socialist Party (September, 1917)

I have lived in Germany and know its language and literature, and the spirit and ideals of its rulers. Having given many years to a study of American capitalism. I am not blind to the defects of my own country; but, in spite of these defects, I assert that the difference between the ruling class of Germany and that of America is the difference between the seventeenth century and the twentieth.

No question can be settled by force, my pacifist friends all say. And this in a country in which a civil war was fought and the question of slavery and secession settled! I can speak with especial certainty of this question, because all my ancestors were Southerners and fought on the rebel side; I myself am living testimony to the fact that force can and does settle questions – when it is used with intelligence.

In the same way I say if Germany be allowed to win this war – then we in America shall have to drop every other activity and devote the next twenty or thirty years to preparing for a last-ditch defence of the democratic principle.

I wonder what Sinclair would say about the war in Iraq were he alive today? Also, just out of curiousity, did anyone else become a vegetarian for a week or two after reading The Jungle in high school? I would strongly suggest that you NOT read Sinclair’s muckraking classic if you are squeamish or if you wish to remain comfortable in your meat-eating habits. Then again, if you want cheap motivation for a healthier diet . . .

Miska Petersham was born Petrezselyem Mikaly in Torokszentmiklos, Hungary, on September 20, 1888. He moved to London in 1911, to the United States in 1912. He married Maud Fuller, and the husband and wife team wrote and illustrated books for children. They are most famous for writing and illustrating The Rooster Crows, a book of American songs, rhymes, and games in the tradition of Mother Goose, which won the 1946 Caldecott Medal. Maud was the daughter of a Baptist minister, and she and her Hungarian husband also wrote and illustrated many retellings of Bible stories. However, my favorite of their books is the one pictured above, The Box With Red Wheels.

Children’s Fiction of 2007: The Lacemaker and the Princess by Kimberly Brubaker Bradley

Sep18

I like historical fiction. I’m fascinated by the French Revolution. Kimberly Brubaker Bradley’s The Lacemaker and the Princess is an excellent fictional introduction to the inequities that gave rise to the Revolution and fueled its violence.

Isabelle is an eleven year old lacemaker in the town of Versailles, just like her mother and her grandmother and her grandmother’s mother before her. One day she is saved from being trampled by a crowd of courtiers by none other than Marie Antionette herself, and Isabelle becomes Clochette, playmate to Madame Royale, the princess Therese. (Clochette, according to the princess, is a much more fashionable name than Isabelle, so Clochette she is.) Isabelle travels between her lower class tradesman’s home and the palace of Versailles, and the contrast between the two becomes more and more disturbing and confusing. The more Isabelle tries to justify to herself and to her brother George the luxuries of the palace, the more she realizes that things are not as they should be. The king is oblivious and indecisive. The queen is obsessed with play-acting and insensitive to the suffering of the common people. Therese lives an ignorant and sheltered life within the walls of the royal palace. Only Isabelle is able to bridge the gap and see both the court and the city as the talk of revolution becomes louder and more impossible to ignore.

This story was inspired by a real girl who was the daughter of a chambermaid and a bailiff, brought up to be the companion of Marie-Therese, the eldest daughter of Louis VII and Marie Antionette. And Ms. Brubaker doesn’t “chicken out”; the story continues all the way through the arrest and imprisonment of the royal family and a note at the end tells what happened to each of the historical figures in the story.

Good story. Any children who like to read about kings and queens, and historical tragedies, and how people lived long ago will enjoy this particular story of tragic king who couldn’t make up his mind, a tragic queen who didn’t understand the time and place she lived in, and a princess who was trapped in the family and the role to which she was born.

The Legendary Apple

Sep17

The Greek hero Heracles, as a part of his Twelve Labours, was required to travel to the Garden of the Hesperides and pick the golden apples off the tree growing at its center.

The Greek goddess of discord, Eris, became disgruntled after she was excluded from the wedding of Peleus and Thetis. In retaliation, she tossed a golden apple inscribed Kallisti (‘For the most beautiful one’), into the wedding party. Three goddesses claimed the apple: Hera, Athena, and Aphrodite. Paris of Troy was appointed to select the recipient. After being bribed by both Hera and Athena, Aphrodite tempted him with the most beautiful woman in the world, Helen of Sparta. He awarded the apple to Aphrodite, thus indirectly causing the Trojan War.

Atalanta, also of Greek mythology, raced all her suitors in an attempt to avoid marriage. She outran all but Hippomenes, who defeated her by cunning, not speed. Hippomenes knew that he could not win in a fair race, so he used three golden apples (gifts of Venus, the Goddess of love) to distract Atalanta. It took all three apples and all of his speed, but Hippomenes was finally successful, winning the race and Atalanta’s hand.

The Irish say that if an apple is peeled into one continuous ribbon and thrown behind a woman’s shoulder, it will land in the shape of the future husband’s initials.

Snow White is killed, or put into a deep sleep, by choking on a poisoned apple given to her by her stepmother. She is awakened by the kiss of the prince.

In Arthurian legend, the mythical isle of Avalon’s name is believed to mean ‘isle of apples’.

The Swiss hero William Tell is supposed to have shot an apple off his son’s head.

Any more apples in myth or legend?

Children’s Fiction of 2007: Spelldown by Karen Luddy

Sep17

Subtitled “The Big Time Dreams of a Small-Town Word Whiz”, this book piqued my interest because Brown Bear Daughter and I are interested in words and in spelling bees. According to the author’s note, Spelldown is Karen Luddy’s first novel, and I would say it shows some promise. However, in the end, I just couldn’t figure out the novel’s main character, which was somewhat disconcerting and off-puttting.

At first, I thought Karlene, the afore-mentioned word whiz, was a brat. She has a mouth and an attitude, and I actually said to myself, “What has this brat got to complain about?” Her older sister is marrying a guy Karlene doesn’t like. Big deal. Then, the story turned into an unorthodox-teacher-changes-my-life tale: “I, Amanda Harrison, am and extraordinary individual who fully intends to transform each and every one of you knuckleheads into a scholar of Latin by the end of the year, no matter how much suffering it causes.” Karlene is inspired, and she decides to win the county spelling bee.

THEN, we find out that Karlene does have family issues to complain about, Ms. Harrison is practically perfect in every way, and a teacher still can’t take the place of parents no matter how flawed they may be. Karlene wins a spelling bee or two and manages to find time for young love in the person of Billy Ray Jenkins.

I don’t know. It’s O.K. It just wasn’t quite there, if you know what I mean. I’d recommend you stick with Akeela and the Bee.

Constitution Titles for Constitution Day

Sep16

This year Constitution Day is Monday, September 17. Educational institutions receiving funding through the Department of Education are required to participate by holding educational programs pertaining to the U.S. Constitution. I think this particular instance of unwarranted interference by the federal government in educational affairs is probably unconstitutional, but well-meaning and perhaps helpful. At any rate, if you want to introduce students to the U.S. Constitution and its meaning, here are some titles to help you to do so:

Miracle at Philadelphia by Catherine Drinker Bowen. Subtitled “The Story of the Constitutional Convention May to September 1787,” this book is the one that gave me the story of the US constitution. It’s suitable for older readers, at least middle school age, but it’s historical writing at its best. I loved reading about Luther Martin of Maryland, whom Henry Adams described as “the notorious reprobate genius.” Elbridge Gerry of Massachusetts who was”always satisfied to shoot an arrow without caring about the wound he caused.” (Both Gerry and Martin refused to sign the final version of the Constitution.) Of course, there were Madison, known as the Father of the Constitution, George Washington, who presided over the convention in which all present knew that they were creating a presidency for him to fill, and Ben Franklin, the old man and elder statesman who had to be carried to the convention in a sedan chair. Ms. Bowen’s book brings all these characters and more to life and gives the details of the deliberations of the constitutional convention in readable and interesting format.

A More Perfect Union: The Story of Our Constitution by Betsy Maestro; illustrated by Guilio Maestro.

If You Were There When They Signed the Constitutionby Elizabeth Levy; illustrated by Joan Holub.

Shh! We’re Writing the Constitution by Jean Fritz; illustrated by Tomie dePaola.

We the Kids: The Preamble to the Constitution of the United States Illustrated by David Catrow.

We the People: The Story of Our Constitution by Peter Spier.

Great Little Madison by Jean Fritz.

Cobblestone: Celebrating Our Constitution. Cobblestone Publishing, September 1987. (magazine for kids)

Cobblestone: The Constitution of the United States. Cobblestone Publishing, September 1982. (magazine for kids)

Constitution Day resources for libraries from the Colorado Department of Education.

Celebrate the Constitution game.

Announcement of federal legislation concerning Constitution Day from The Federal Register.

Anne Bradstreet Day: September 16

Sep16

Anne Bradstreet, a 17th century Puritan, is widely considered to be the first American poet. Her exact birth date is not known; September 16th marks the day of her death in 1672.

I posted this part of a poem by Anne Bradstreet last September, but no one has volunteered to set it to music yet.

As for this poem, I imagine many authors may feel this way when sending forth a book into the world:

The Author To Her Book by Anne Bradstreet

Thou ill-formed offspring of my feeble brain,
Who after birth did’st by my side remain,
Till snatcht from thence by friends, less wise than true,
Who thee abroad exposed to public view,
Made thee in rags, halting to th’ press to trudge,
Where errors were not lessened (all may judge).
At thy return my blushing was not small,
My rambling brat (in print) should mother call.
I cast thee by as one unfit for light,
The visage was so irksome in my sight,
Yet being mine own, at length affection would
Thy blemishes amend, if so I could.
I washed thy face, but more defects I saw,
And rubbing off a spot, still made a flaw.
I stretcht thy joints to make thee even feet,
Yet still thou run’st more hobbling than is meet.
In better dress to trim thee was my mind,
But nought save home-spun cloth, i’ th’ house I find.
In this array, ‘mongst vulgars may’st thou roam.
In critic’s hands, beware thou dost not come,
And take thy way where yet thou art not known.
If for thy father askt, say, thou hadst none;
And for thy mother, she alas is poor,
Which caused her thus to send thee out of door.

Madeleine L’Engle: In Her Own Words

Sep16

“Artists of all disciplines must be willing to go into the dark, let go control, be surprised.”

“We die alone. But I wish that most deaths today did not come in nursing homes or in hospitals. Death is an act which should not happen in such brutal settings. Future generations may well regard our hopitals and “rest” homes and institutions for the mentally ill with as much horror as we regard Bedlam.” The Summer of the Great-Grandmother, p. 41.

” . . . it comes to me that if I am not free to accept guilt when I do wrong, then I am not free at all. If all my mistakes are excused, if there’s an alibi, a rationalization, for every blunder, then I am not free at all. I have become subhuman.” The Summer of the Great-Grandmother, p. 50.

“Change is a basic law of life, and when change stops, death comes.” The Summer of the Great-Grandmother, p. 105.

“It would be simpler to restrict myself to the things I can hear and see and touch, to the things I can prove, to the things I can control.” The Summer of the Great-Grandmother, p. 122.

“So according to our human perception of time a century may seem long, but all that has happened since that first moment of creation is no more than the flicker of God’s eye. In the life span of a star, an ordinary star like our sun, our lives are such a fragment of a fragment as to seem practically nonexistent, even if we live four score years and ten, like my mother, or even five score, like my grandfather. So, according to one perception of time, the zealous creationists are right—God created everything in an instant—or, rather, seven days; and according to another perception of time, the pragmatic evolutionists are right, and life has evolved slowly over our chronological millennia.” And It Was Good.

“What I believe is so magnificent, so glorious, that it is beyond finite comprehension. To believe that the universe was created by a purposeful, benign Creator is one thing. To believe that this Creator took on human vesture, accepted death and mortality, was tempted, betrayed, broken, and all for love of us, defies reason. It is so wild that it terrifies some Christians who try to dogmatize their fear by lashing out at other Christians, because tidy Christianity with all answers given is easier than one which reaches out to the wild wonder of God’s love, a love we don’t even have to earn.” Penguins and Golden Calves, p. 31.

“Prayer was never meant to be magic,” Mother said.
“Then why bother with it?” Suzy scowled.
“Because it’s an act of love,” Mother said.
A Ring Of Endless Light, p. 288-289.

“If you want to see the stars you must go out into the country where there are no lights to dim them. But if you really want to see the stars then you must be out in the middle of the ocean. Then you can see them as the sailors and navigators saw them in the days when stars were known as very few people know them now.”
Arm of the Starfish

“What is forever? It cannot be in time, because time can be measured, and forever cannot. Time is inextricably tangled up with place, and can be measured only against place (dark of night in New York; grey of morning in Beja). Time has meaning only in relation to its position in space, the movement of a planet about a sun, of a night through stars.”
The Love Letters

“Oh, child, your language is so utterly simple and limited that it has the effect of extreme complication.” A Wrinkle in Time, p. 169.

“Progo! Help me! How can I feel love for Mr. Jenkins?”

Immediately he opened a large number of eyes very wide. “What a strange idea. Love isn’t feeling. If it were, I wouldn’t be able to love. Cherubim don’t have feelings.”
A Wind in the Door

Poetry Friday: Indwelling by T.E. Brown

Sep14

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Although Madeleine L’Engle was a fine poet, her works are most likely still protected by copyright. So instead of one of her poems, I give you a poem by Thomas Brown that formed a significant anchoring thematic element in the book A Ring of Endless Light.

Concholigia Iconica, 1843-1878

If thou could’st empty all thyself of self
Like unto a shell dishabited
Then might He find thee on the ocean shelf
And say, ‘This is not dead,’
And fill thee with Himself instead.

But thou art all replete with very thou
And has such shrewd activity
That when He comes He says, ‘This is enou
Unto itself–’twere better let it be.
It is so small and full, there is no room for me.”
–Thomas Brown

The poem was written, by the way, by Thomas Edward Brown, b. 1830, not by the Sir Thomas Browne, b. 1605, who wrote Religio Medici and Urn Burial.