This Colorful Friday

THANKSGIVING TREES
~ ACCUSTOMED, CEREMONIOUS ~

Autumn Sun, 1912 ~ Egon Schiele (1890 - 1918)

As we struggle past another year of COVID,
these spare, elegant paintings (above & below)
are a reminder of the stark reality that
Schiele (age 28), his wife Edith, and their unborn child
all died in the Spanish Flu Pandemic of 1918.

Two weeks ago, I posted 3 days early for Veterans Day. Today I'm posting 2 days early for the Friday After Thanksgiving, colloquially referred to as Black Friday for the past six decades. However, black need not be the only color choice for the day. How about brown, for example:

“Autumnal — nothing to do with leaves. It is to do with a certain brownness at the edges of the day. . . . Brown is creeping up on us, take my word for it. . . . Russets and tangerine shades of old gold flushing the very outside edge of the senses. . . deep shining ochres, burnt umber and parchments of baked earth—reflecting on itself and through itself, filtering the light. At such times, perhaps, coincidentally, the leaves might fall, somewhere, by repute. Yesterday was blue, like smoke.”

from Rosencrantz and Guildenstern are Dead
by Tom Stoppard (b 1937)

The "certain brownness" of Stoppard's autumn includes a gorgeous array of unusual seasonal tones: russet, tangerine, gold, ochre, umber, blue! In the next poem, Anne Barbara Ridler offers a similar palette of surprising, "raging colour": purple, red, rose, amber. What could be more perfect to brighten a cold "Black" Friday:

Autumn Day

The raging colour of this cold Friday
Eats up our patience like a fire,
Consumes our willingness to endure,
Here the crumpled maple, a gold fabric,
The beech by beams empurpled, the holy sycamore,
Berries red-hot, the rose's core--
The sun emboldens to burn in porphyry and amber.

Pick up the remnants of our resignation
Where we left them, and bring our loving passion,
Before the mist from the dark sea at our feet
Where mushrooms cling like limpets in the grass,
Quenching our fierceness, leaves us in a worse case.

Anne Barbara Ridler (1912 - 2001)

Autumn Trees, 1911

In the following sonnet, Elizabeth Jennings makes no mention of color, describing instead the tenacity of the last leaves to fall. Some are ready to go by Halloween, others by Thanksgiving. Others linger well beyond the autumn holidays, taking nearly another season before the branches are "utterly bare," before we see those bones:

Beech

They will not go. These leaves insist on staying.
Coinage like theirs looked frail six weeks ago.
What hintings at, excitement of delaying,
Almost as if some richer fruits could grow

If leaves hung on against each swipe of storm,
If branches bent but still did not give way.
Today is brushed with sun. The leaves are warm.
I picked one from the pavement and it lay

With borrowed shining on my Winter hand.
Persistence of this nature sends the pulse
Beating more rapidly. When will it end,

That pride of leaves? When will the branches be
Utterly bare, and seem like something else,
Now half-forgotten, no part of a tree?

Elizabeth Jennings (1926 - 2001)

Small Tree in Late Autumn, 1911

So if you happen to be feeling overwhelmed by Thanksgiving and Black Friday and Cyber Monday, take a break from it all and immerse yourself in the vivid colors of this special weekend that comes but once a year!

******************

Previous Egon Schiele Posts
How A Body Sways
Allerseelen
Easter Siblings

&

A nice long poem for reading
anytime during October through December:
"Kicking the Leaves"
by Donald Hall

Next Fortnightly Post
Tuesday, December 14th

Between now and then, read
THE QUOTIDIAN KIT ~ "Trees & Shells"
my shorter, almost daily blog posts
www.dailykitticarriker.blogspot.com

Looking for a good book? Try
KITTI'S LIST
my running list of recent reading
www.kittislist.blogsppot.com

Angel of the Hills

DULCE DECORUM EST
~ ACCUSTOMED, CEREMONIOUS ~

Pvt Samuel Gordon Lindsey
(January 5, 1893 - July 31, 1918)

with his mother

Sarah Elisabeth Hartman Lindsey
(August 19, 1856 - September 29, 1937)

The following artice was written in 1936,
shortly before Sarah died. I'm not sure who wrote it,
but I imagine it was for a local publication,
such as the Caney, Kansas, newspaper.
"When her son, Samuel Gordon Lindsey, was killed in action in the World War, Mrs. Sarah Elisabeth Hartman Lindsey, who lives near here [the Cascade Hills in Chautauqua County, Kansas] decided that the qualities which had endeared her son to all who knew him, his generosity and kindliness, could find continued expression through the war insurance which she receives monthly.

"Sums ranging from two dollars to one hundred dollars have been lent to worthy applicants for aid.  A man whose house, barn, and stock were burned was given a "stake" to enable him to get on his feet again.  A boy desiring an education was given money for books and his luncheon provided for during the school term.  A widow struggling to make a livelihood for herself and children on a barren forty acres has been helped over many rough spots.  A young man faced with bankruptcy following the Crash of 1929 was given money enough to ease the load and satisfy his creditors.  

"Countless relatives also have been the recipient of aid at different times.  No interest is charged those to whom loans are made and no principal has been lost.

"Her desire to help others has enabled this woman, now 80 years of age, to express usefulness at a time of life when useful activity might be difficult for many. Small wonder she is lovingly referred to as "The Angel of the Hills" in her community."

*************

My Great Uncle Sam had a very serious side,
but never lost his sense of humor.

A month before he died, Sam wrote home to his mother:

"I surely hope you are not worrying about me and trust you are not because I am faring fine so be easy as possible. I figure this is a cause worthy of an easy mind, although the outcome might be unfortunate for a boy, it is well worth whatever loss he meets, is simply why I can set steady in the boat. I want you to see it is so, not for the good old US alone but for humanity's sake in general, and I know you do of course and . . . see where we are fighting for Right and it's not near as much trouble for you. For me, I am not bothered a bit -- can't be bothered haha!

. . . You know it doesn't seem like I am as far from you as I am but when the sun comes up back there it's nearly noon here so it's some little ways, eh? Well Ma dear I must close for now and I will write more often. . . . I want you to think about what I have said.* If you have any little Kodak pictures of yourself I wish you would stick one in when you write. I lost the one you gave me.**
Hoping this finds you all well.
Your loving boy
Pvt. Sam. G. Lindsey
Co. A - 47 U.S. Inf. (Reg.)
American E. F. (Via New York)

*Emphasis added.

**In an earlier letter -- to his sister Mabel, in February -- he has written across the top of the page: "Thanks for the picture of mother." Perhaps this is in reference to the one that got lost.

In a final letter to Mabel -- mailed on July 11, 1918, exactly 3 weeks before his death -- Sam wrote, with what was to become the saddest irony:

"My Dear Sister and family,

You may think I am dead but
now think again ha, ha."

Dear Uncle Sam,
Rest in Peace
I will try, as you implore your mother,
"to think about what [you] have said."
But I cannot promise to agree.

In honor of Veterans Day & the Armistice,
I shall allow Eleanor Roosevelt the last word:
"I have sketched briefly the short trip to Europe after World War I, and yet I think that trip had far - reaching consequences for me. I had known Europe and particularly France, with its neat and patterned countryside, fairly well. The picture of desolation fostered in me an undying hate of war which was not definitely formulated before that time. The conviction of the uselessness of war as a means of finding any final solution to international difficulties grew stronger and stronger as I listened to people talk. I said little about it at the time but the impression was so strong that instead of fading out of my memory it has become more deeply etched upon it year by year." ~ from her Autobiography
*****************

To read more about Sarah . . .

Faded Autographs
Great - Grandmother's Day Book

To read more about Sam . . .

My Grandfather's Brother
Veterans Eve
Uncle Samuel
Back when Kansas was the Wild Wild West!
Two Fine Families

Time to Write A Letter
Talking About the Homestead
Thus Far Our Experience
Getting Almost Homesick

And more about Veterans Day . . .
Collected on the Quotidian Kit

Next Fortnightly Post
Sunday, November 28th

Between now and then, read
THE QUOTIDIAN KIT
my shorter, almost daily blog posts
www.dailykitticarriker.blogspot.com

Looking for a good book? Try
KITTI'S LIST
my running list of recent reading
www.kittislist.blogsppot.com