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Unbroken: A World War II Story of Survival, Resilience and Redemption by Laura Hillenbrand

Amazing story. If it weren’t so heavily footnoted and corroborated, I would find it difficult to believe such a miraculous survival story. Louis Zamperini, the subject of this riveting biography, was an Olympic runner. He won a bronze medal in the 1936 Olympics in Berlin, and he planned to compete in the 1940 Olympics. Louie, as he was called, was getting close to breaking the four minute mile, but World War II derailed Louis’s Olympic and world record hopes. However, the rest of the story which chronicles Louie’s experiences during and after World War II is even more astounding and transcendent than any world record in a sporting event. I don’t think I’ve ever read about anyone who survived the multiple ordeals that Zamperini was able to live through and then also managed, by the grace of God, to live a full and joyful life afterwards.

One of my urchins says she doesn’t believe in miracles. I think she’s saying she’s never heard a Voice from on high or seen a person instantly healed or witnessed the sudden appearance of manna from heaven. However, if what happened in the life of Louis Zamperini wasn’t a series of miracles, I don’t know what to call it. First of all, Louis and the pilot of his B-24 bomber survive a crash in the Pacific and forty plus days on a raft without supplies in the ocean. And it only get worse when the two Americans land on the Marshall Islands and are “rescued” by the Japanese army.

But the greatest miracle of all comes after the war is over for everyone else, when Louie is still trapped in the prison of his own mind.

No one could reach Louie, because he had never really come home. In prison camp, he’d been beaten into dehumanized obedience to a world order in which the Bird (a cruel Japanese prison guard) was absolute sovereign, and it was under this world order that he still lived. The Bird had taken his dignity and left him feeling humiliated, ashamed, and powerless, and Louie believed that only the Bird could restore him, by suffering and dying in the grip of his hands. A once singularly hopeful man now believed that his only hope lay in murder.
The paradox of vengefulness is that it makes men dependent upon those who have harmed them, believing that their release from pain will come only when they make their tormentors suffer. In seeking the Bird’s death to free himself, Louie had chained himself, once again, to his tyrant. During the war, the Bird had been unwilling to let go of Louie; after the war, Louie was unable to let go of the Bird.

This book actually brought me to tears, something that seldom happens to me while reading. I was reminded that as Corrie Ten Boom often said, “There is no pit so deep that God is not deeper still.”

I was also reminded of my conviction that the bombing of Hiroshima and Nagasaki were necessary evils. The Japanese were not planning to ever surrender to the Allies. In the book, Hillenbrand tells how the POWs in Japan saw women and children being trained to defend the homeland to the last person. And the Japanese had a “kill-all policy” which ordered prison camp commanders to kill all the prisoners of war if it ever became evident that they might be rescued and repatriated. This policy was carried out in several Japanese prison camps, and “virtually every POW believed that the destruction of this city (Hiroshima) had saved them from execution.”

Man’s inhumanity to man continues on into this century, but if we are to avoid and prevent future horrors, we must remember the past. And we must be presented with stories that affirm the possibility of redemption, even from the darkest of atrocities.

Poetry Friday: I Remember, I Remember by Thomas Hood, 1837

I remember, I remember
The house where I was born,
The little window where the sun
Came peeping in at morn;
He never came a wink too soon
Nor brought too long a day;
But now, I often wish the night
Had borne my breath away.

I remember, I remember
The roses red and white,
The violets and the lily cups–
Those flowers made of light!
The lilacs where the robin built,
And where my brother set
The laburnum on his birthday,–
The tree is living yet!

I remember, I remember
Where I was used to swing,
And thought the air must rush as fresh
To swallows on the wing;
My spirit flew in feathers then
That is so heavy now,
The summer pools could hardly cool
The fever on my brow.

I remember, I remember
The fir-trees dark and high;
I used to think their slender tops
Were close against the sky:
It was a childish ignorance,
But now ’tis little joy
To know I’m farther off from Heaven
Than when I was a boy.

Sad poem with a kind of Thomas Hardy/A.E. Houseman feel to it. According to Wikipedia, Hood was a humorist and a poet. He liked puns and wordplay. He certainly wasn’t feeling very humorous when he wrote I Remember, but it does have an almost pleasant sort of melancholy feel to it.

Hood was friends with Victorian novelist William Makepeace Thackeray who said of Hood: “Oh sad, marvelous picture of courage, of honesty, of patient endurance, of duty struggling against pain! … Here is one at least without guile, without pretension, without scheming, of a pure life, to his family and little modest circle of friends tenderly devoted.”
Nice epitaph.

Obama Prayer by Charles M. Garriott

Obama Prayer: Prayers for the 44th President by Charles M. Garriott.

Confession time: I requested this book from the author when I received an email pitch, but then when I got it, I didn’t really want to read it. President Obama is not my favorite politician/leader, and if I read the book I’d probably be convicted about actually spending valuable time praying for the man and his presidency. Did I want to do that? And then, what if I did pray for Mr. Obama, but God didn’t do anything that I recognized as an answer to my prayers? Or, like in the story of Jonah, what if God did bring Mr. Obama and the rest of his administration to repentance and change? Would I believe it? Or would I rather see God’s wrath outpoured on those with whom I disagree both morally and politically?

Ouch. So first I prayed for my own rather faithless and vengeful heart to be changed, and then I read the book.

Each chapter of this brief but powerful book of less than 100 pages attempts to answer in various ways the question, “How then do we pray for Barack Obama, the President of the United States of America?” I was led to pray for Mr Obama’s words and decisions, for his family and the example he sets for the families of our nation, for wisdom for him and for his advisors, for him to pursue and maintain truth, for protection for him personally and for our nation, for him to display both justice and mercy in his actions and in the laws he executes. Each chapter ends with a prepared prayer that the reader can use to place before the Lord in behalf of President Obama, to intercede for him and for his government of our nation.

We are commanded as Christians to pray for our leaders. I prayed often for President George W. Bush and his administration. For President Obama, not so much. I don’t understand prayer very well, and I fail to pray for all the reasons I already confessed to, and also because sometimes I’m just lazy. However, not praying when we are told plainly to do so in the Bible is wrong, and I am determined to obey God whether I totally understand why He asks what He asks or not. So I recommend this little book to you if you are a Christian citizen of the United States who wants to to do what God commands in regard to our government and our president. I’m going to keep this book next to my Bible for the next year or two to remind me that God is in control and to help me to remember to pray for Barack Obama.

“We must keep this in mind when praying for a president. The call to pray for President Barack Obama and his administration is first of all a call to dependency on God. It is a call to respond to the work of grace within our lives. It is a reminder that in the political realm neither we nor the president are ultimately in charge.”

“I urge, then, first of all, that requests, prayers, intercession, and thanksgiving be made for everyone—for kings and all those in authority, that we may live peaceful and quiet lives in all godliness and holiness. This is good and pleases God our Savior, who wants all men to be saved and to come to a knowledge of the truth.” I Timothy 2:1-5

Obama Prayer by Charles Garriott will be available from Amazon and other booksellers on February 15, 2011. You can start praying anytime.

Poetry Friday: Poem #38, Ode on a Grecian Urn by John Keats, 1820

“A Poet is the most unpoetical thing in existence because he has no Identity.”~John Keats

Thou still unravish’d bride of quietness,
Thou foster-child of silence and slow time,
Sylvan historian, who canst thus express
A flowery tale more sweetly than our rhyme:
What leaf-fring’d legend haunt about thy shape
Of deities or mortals, or of both,
In Tempe or the dales of Arcady?
What men or gods are these? What maidens loth?
What mad pursuit? What struggle to escape?
What pipes and timbrels? What wild ecstasy?

Heard melodies are sweet, but those unheard
Are sweeter: therefore, ye soft pipes, play on;
Not to the sensual ear, but, more endear’d,
Pipe to the spirit ditties of no tone:
Fair youth, beneath the trees, thou canst not leave
Thy song, nor ever can those trees be bare;
Bold lover, never, never canst thou kiss,
Though winning near the goal – yet, do not grieve;
She cannot fade, though thou hast not thy bliss,
For ever wilt thou love, and she be fair!

Ah, happy, happy boughs! that cannot shed
Your leaves, nor ever bid the spring adieu;
And, happy melodist, unwearied,
For ever piping songs for ever new;
More happy love! more happy, happy love!
For ever warm and still to be enjoy’d,
For ever panting, and for ever young;
All breathing human passion far above,
That leaves a heart high-sorrowful and cloy’d,
A burning forehead, and a parching tongue.

Who are these coming to the sacrifice?
To what green altar, O mysterious priest,
Lead’st thou that heifer lowing at the skies,
And all her silken flanks with garlands drest?
What little town by river or sea shore,
Or mountain-built with peaceful citadel,
Is emptied of this folk, this pious morn?
And, little town, thy streets for evermore
Will silent be; and not a soul to tell
Why thou art desolate, can e’er return.

O Attic shape! Fair attitude! with brede
Of marble men and maidens overwrought,
With forest branches and the trodden weed;
Thou, silent form, dost tease us out of thought
As doth eternity: Cold Pastoral!
When old age shall this generation waste,
Thou shalt remain, in midst of other woe
Than ours, a friend to man, to whom thou say’st,
“Beauty is truth, truth beauty,” – that is all
Ye know on earth, and all ye need to know.

I once wrote a paper for an art history class on a Grecian urn; Keats wrote a world famous, cryptic, and oft-quoted poem. And therein lies the difference between me and poor John Keats.

Poetry Friday round-up is at the blog Dori Reads today, where Dori has a lovely poem about an ant’s epic journey there and back again. Check it out.

The Movies of January 2011

The Voyage of the Dawn Treader. Semicolon review here.

Stone of Destiny. Recommended by HG at The Common Room. I enjoyed this movie based on a true incident in 1950 when four Scots student stole the Stone of Scone from Westminster Abbey and returned it to Scotland from whence it came back in the thirteenth century.

Bright Star. Also recommended by HG at The Common Room. Based on the life, romantic entanglements, and death of Romantic poet John Keats. This one was a little too sad and hopeless for my tastes; I think I’m developing a prejudice against all Romantic poets. They were all so emo, which I guess was the point.

Les Miserables in Concert. An old favorite that we enjoyed together as a family.

Celtic Thunder: Christmas. We didn’t get this one until after Christmas, but we watched (and swooned) and sang along anyway.

The urchins watched other things, too. They (we?) watch too many movies. I’m working on that issue.

Sunday Salon: Books Read in January, 2011

The Sunday Salon.com

Bible:
Genesis.
Mark.
Psalm 1-15.

Children’s Fiction:
Moon Over Manifest by Clare Vanderpool. Semicolon review here.
Dragon’s Gate by Laurence Yep.

Young Adult Fiction:
After the Dancing Days by Margaret L. Rostkowski.
Heist Society by Ally Carter.
Split by Swati Avashti. Semicolon review here.
The Wager by Donna Jo Napoli. Semicolon review here.
The Life of Glass by Jillian Cantor.
Harmonic Feedback by Tara Kelly.
Amy and Roger’s Epic Detour by Morgan Matson.
Ship Breaker by Paolo Bacigalupi. Semicolon review here.

Adult Fiction:
The Forsyte Saga by John Galsworthy.
Valeria’s Cross by Kathi Macias.
The Identity Man by Andrew Klavan. Semicolon review here.
The Unbearable Lightness of Scones by Alexander McCall Smith. Semicolon review here.
Mrs. ‘arris Goes to Paris by Paul Gallico.
Little Bee by Chris Cleave. Semicolon review here.

Nonfiction
You Are What You See: Watching Movies Through a Christian Lens by Scott Nehring. Semicolon review here.
The Eye of the Elephant by Delia and Mark Owens. Semicolon review here.
The Boy Who Harnessed the Wind by William Kamkwamba and Bryan Mealer.

Favorite Nonfiction Book of the Month: The Boy Who Harnessed the Wind by William Kamkwamba and Bryan Mealer. Inspirational, Thomas Edison-type story with much tragedy and questioning mixed in. Semicolon review here.

Favorite Fiction Book of the Month: Ship Breaker by Paolo Bacigalupi.

Projects, New and Old: January 2011

My Bible Reading Project is going pretty well. I’ve read through Genesis, on track to finish Mark this weekend, and several of the Psalms. I also read Galatians, mostly aloud to the urchins, but I can’t say I was very successful in explaining the distinction between keeping the Law for the law’s sake and keeping it out of gratitude for what Christ has done. The urchins stared at me blankly for the most part as I engaged in this lesson in theology for their benefit. Ah, well, push on.

I want to take my old Bible and do this project with it: Blank Bible Project. I can see how this would be really useful—and a way of passing down a legacy to at least one of my children. More detailed instructions on making a blank Bible.

I read Certain Women by Madeleine L’Engle for the Faith N Fiction Roundtable, and I found Ms. L’Engle’s work as satisfying and thoughtful as ever. Come here, or to one of the other participants’ blogs, in February for more discussion of the book and its implications.

Poetry Project: The poems are posting on Fridays for Poetry Friday, and I’m enjoying them, even though we are in the Romantic period right now. I think I’m becoming an anti-Romantic poetry reader.

Newbery Project: I read and reviewed the Newbery Award winner, Moon Over Manifest, this month. I liked it a lot.

Operation Clean House is going nowhere. I haven’t even attempted to put together an Exercise and Diet Project. If anyone know of a way to exercise without actual physical labor being involved, please let me know.

In February, I really want to do more posts for Texas Tuesday and Read Aloud Thursday (to link to Amy’s blog, Hope Is the Word). I also would like to continue my Africa Reading Project, which has gotten off to a good start this year with several posts in January.

Poetry Friday: Poem #37, Ozymandias by Percy Byshe Shelley

“I’ve written some poetry I don’t understand myself.”~Carl Sandburg

Egypt: Thebesphoto © 1900 Brooklyn Museum | more info (via: Wylio)
I met a traveller from an antique land
Who said: “Two vast and trunkless legs of stone
Stand in the desert. Near them on the sand,
Half sunk, a shattered visage lies, whose frown
And wrinkled lip and sneer of cold command
Tell that its sculptor well those passions read
Which yet survive, stamped on these lifeless things,
The hand that mocked them and the heart that fed.
And on the pedestal these words appear:
`My name is Ozymandias, King of Kings:
Look on my works, ye mighty, and despair!’
Nothing beside remains. Round the decay
Of that colossal wreck, boundless and bare,
The lone and level sands stretch far away”.

I think I’ve mentioned here before that Mr. Shelley is not my favorite person or poet. However, he managed in Ozymandias to capture the spirit of the Biblical admonition, “Remember, O man, that you are dust, and unto dust you shall return.” (Genesis 3:19)

Ash Wednesday, the beginning of the Christian season of Lent, is about a month away, on March 9 this year. We would do well to remember the arrogant and the mighty who were fallen and forgotten before we were born and come before the Lord God of the Universe in humility and repentance.

Poetry Friday is at Wild Rose Reader this week. Check it out for more poetical lessons and entertainment.

Sunday Salon: What Have You Been Reading?

The Sunday Salon.com

Sarah Palin gets inspiration from C.S. Lewis, and Joy Behar scoffs. This incident took place over a month ago, but I’m a little behind. It just shows that some people are sadly ignorant, the incident, that is, not my tardiness in reporting it.

15 Books To Read Before They’re on the Big Screen. Did you know they’re making a movie of Rosemary Sutcliff’s Eagle of the Ninth? And Maze Runner by James Dashner?

I found another list or two that I want to hang on to, after I closed the January List of Lists at the Saturday Review:
Good Spiritual Reading in 2010 from HouseBlog. I saw several recommendations here that I’d like to check out.

I have a couple of reading problems that I want to air and get advice about:

1. I got a new Kindle for Christmas. I was excited, and I downloaded several books and read a couple on the Kindle. I also started two books on my new device, but I’m finding that I keep making excuses and reading “real” book instead of finishing the ones on the Kindle. I think it doesn’t feel right to me to read on the Kindle, not as satisfying somehow. Did any of you who have an ereader find that there’s a learning curve or a time of getting used to the device and starting to feel comfortable with it? I feel as if I’m not really reading or something.

2. I think my reading has been negatively impacted by the computer. I love blogging and computers and the internet. I’m not an anti-technology person. But I find myself skimming and rushing through books lately because, I think, I am so much more aware of all of the books that I want to read. I have to get through them fast because there are so many good books out there yet to read. Of course, that attitude isn’t conducive to good, relaxed enjoyment of the book I am reading right now. Have any of you experienced the “reading rush”, and how did you begin to slow down and enjoy the moment?

Finally, what have you been reading? And have you taken the time to slow down and enjoy your reading and other activities?

Poetry Friday: Poem #36, To a Waterfowl by William Cullen Bryant, 1818

“The fact that poetry is not of the slightest economic or political importance, that it has no attachment to any of the powers that control the modern world, may set it free to do the only thing that in this age it can do —to keep the neglected parts of the human experience alive until the weather changes; as in some unforeseeable way it may do”~Graham Hough

Last year I did a poem survey and began posting the top 100 poems from the survey in chronological order. Then life and laziness and Cybils and Christmas intervened, and I only posted the oldest 35 of the 100 projected poems. But I am determined to use Poetry Friday as an excuse to write about the other 65 poems on list. So, today I’m back with an American poet, William Cullen Bryant.

Unidentified Waterfowl 3photo © 2010 Richard Hawley | more info (via: Wylio)
Whither, ‘midst falling dew,
While glow the heavens with the last steps of day,
Far, through their rosy depths, dost thou pursue
Thy solitary way?

Vainly the fowler’s eye
Might mark thy distant flight to do thee wrong,
As, darkly painted on the crimson sky,
Thy figure floats along.

Seek’st thou the plashy brink
Of weedy lake, or marge of river wide,
Or where the rocking billows rise and sink
On the chafed ocean side?

There is a Power whose care
Teaches thy way along that pathless coast,–
The desert and illimitable air,–
Lone wandering, but not lost.

All day thy wings have fann’d
At that far height, the cold thin atmosphere:
Yet stoop not, weary, to the welcome land,
Though the dark night is near.

And soon that toil shall end,
Soon shalt thou find a summer home, and rest,
And scream among thy fellows; reeds shall bend
Soon o’er thy sheltered nest.

Thou’rt gone, the abyss of heaven
Hath swallowed up thy form; yet, on my heart
Deeply hath sunk the lesson thou hast given,
And shall not soon depart.

He, who, from zone to zone,
Guides through the boundless sky thy certain flight,
In the long way that I must tread alone,
Will lead my steps aright.

William Cullen Bryant published his first poem at age ten. As an adult, he was a lawyer, and then a journalist and assistant editor of the New York Evening Post, a Federalist, later Republican-leaning, newspaper. Bryant was an ardent abolitionist whose major disagreement with Abraham Lincoln after Lincoln’s election was over the emancipation of the slaves and the abolition of slavery in the entire country. Bryant believed that Lincoln’s delay in freeing the slaves was incomprehensible and dilatory.

About Wm. Cullen Bryant:
Critic Thomas Holley Chivers: [The] “only thing [Bryant] ever wrote that may be called Poetry is ‘Thanatopsis’, which he stole line for line from the Spanish. The fact is, that he never did anything but steal—as nothing he ever wrote is original.”
Edgar Allan Poe on the poem “June”: “The rhythmical flow, here, is even voluptuous—nothing could be more melodious. The intense melancholy which seems to well up, perforce, to the surface of all the poet’s cheerful sayings about his grave, we find thrilling us to the soul—while there is the truest poetic elevation in the thrill… the impression left is one of a pleasurable sadness.”
Mary Mapes Dodge: “You will admire more and more, as you grow older, the noble poems of this great and good man.
Abraham Lincoln: “It is worth a visit from Springfield, Illinois, to New York to make the acquaintance of such a man as William Cullen Bryant.”

Poetry Friday is hosted today at A Teaching Life.