10 Movies, 10 Images

A HOUSE WHERE ALL'S
ACCUSTOMED, CEREMONIOUS

Peter's Friends ~ well worth watching
not only for the drama but also for the quirky
and lavish Christmas decorations of Wrotham Park

A few months back, I participated in an introspective facebook quiz organized by none other than Master of Revels Steven LaVigne. The challenge was to post pictures from 10 films that have had an impact on you: 10 movies, 10 images, no text required, though I myself can rarely resist a bit of text. The idea was to have a little fun while waiting out the summer quarantine. When it comes to movies, however, I was already thinking ahead to Christmas, so my list comes out at half and half. Of course, there are so many more possibilities; but, on impulse, I went with the following visuals that jumped most readily to mind:


Choose Me

Harriet the Spy

Desperately Seeking Susan

Airport 1975

Mrs. Dalloway

~ Now for some Thanksgiving ~ Christmas ~ New Year Favorites ~


A Child's Christmas in Wales

James Joyce's The Dead

Home for the Holidays

Christmas Vacation

Truman Capote's A Christmas Memory

Next Fortnightly Post
Thursday, January 14th

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.blogspot.com

Fencepost of Homestead Past

OLD WOODEN POSTS
ACCUSTOMED, CEREMONIOUS

December 22, 2009 & Christmas 2010
For me, decking the halls includes decking out this lone vintage fencepost from days of yore that stands so loyally, all by itself along our south property line, more than a century old (ca 1900)!

Not only do I honor Christmas in my heart every year ~ as suggested by Charles Dickens ~ but I honor the venerable fencepost for the sake of all the previous homesteaders: those who set the post in the ground so long ago, those who may have met to chat across the fence, and those whose spirits linger still:

Now by the post-and-rail fences, where the old stones thrown there, picked from the fields, have accumulated,

Wild-flowers and vines and weeds come up through the stones, and partly cover them, beyond these I pass . . .

Alone I had thought—yet soon a silent troop gathers around me,

Some walk by my side, and some behind, and some embrace my arms or neck,

They, the spirits of friends, dead or alive, thicker they come, a great crowd, and I in the middle . . .

. . . there I wander with them . . .

Walt Whitman (1819 - 1892)
from Calamus: "There I Wander in Spring"

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

Christmas 2011 ~ Plaid Flannel
photo: January 19, 2012

December 27, 2012 ~ Candy Stripes

Christmas 2013 ~ Yellow Crystal
photo: January 2, 2014 ~ Snow Was General

Christmas 2014 ~ Red & Silver
photo: January 7, 2015 ~ Staying Alive

Christmas 2016 ~ Cream & Maroon
photo: January 11, 2017

2020 ~ Recycled Tablecloth
Thanks Steven!

2020 Update: First Snowfall!
December 16, 2020

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

In closing, I share this sad poem for a sad Christmas,
at the close of a long, confusing year:

The Fence

There where the dim past and future mingle
their nebulous hopes and aspirations
there I lie.

There where truth and untruth struggle
in endless and bloody combat
there I lie.
There where time moves forwards and backwards
with not one moment's pause for sighing
there I lie.

There where the body ages relentlessly
and only the feeble mind can wander back
I lie in open-souled amazement.

There where all the opposites arrive
to plague the inner senses, but do not fuse.
I hold my head; and then contrive
to stop the constant motion;
my head goes round and round,
but I have not been drinking;
I feel the buoyant waves; I stagger.

It seems the world has changed her gament.
but it is I who have not crossed the fence.

There where the need for good
and "the doing good" conflict,
there I lie.

Lenrie Peters (1932 – 2009)

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

Christmas 2015
photo: January 25, 2016
Salvaged Fence Posts from a Nearby Dumpster

Next Fortnightly Post
Monday, December 28th

Between now and then, read
THE QUOTIDIAN KIT  ~ Festive Fencepost
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.blogspot.com

Family Cookbook

COOKBOOKS
ACCUSTOMED, CEREMONIOUS

Now is the time to review the Thanksgiving recipes,
to determine the failures and successes,
to start planning ahead for Hanukkah,
Christmas, New Year's Eve & Day!
We shall work around the pandemic
and find a way to keep the feast!

"Cookbooks hit you where you live. You want comfort; you want security; you want food; you want to not be hungry and not only do you want those basic things fixed, you want it done in a really nice, gentle way that makes you feel loved. That's a big desire, and cookbooks say to the person reading them, 'If you will read me, you will be able to do this for yourself and for others. You will make everybody feel better.'

" . . . there is nothing like a cookbook to explain to you how we used to live. If you want to know what real life used to be like, meaning domestic life, there isn't anywhere you can go that gives you a better idea than a cookbook." (10)

from More Home Cooking: A Writer Returns to the Kitchen
by Laurie Colwin (1944 - 1992)

~ My mother's notation inside her favorite cookbook ~

~ Here's the little Hunt's booklet that she mentions ~

As it is Thanksgiving weekend,
I must conclude with this notation
that appears as the first item on her
list of successful menu and recipe

"MilePosts"

1961 ~ Thanksgiving Dinner
turkey ~ everything

*********************
Happy ~ Thanksgiving & Turkey ~ Day!

Grade School Art & Poetry
by my twin brother Bruce ~ 1965 (or so)

Next Fortnightly Post
Monday, December 14th

Between now and then, read
THE QUOTIDIAN KIT ~ Homemade Ice Cream
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.blogspot.com

Spinning the Web

SPIDER WEB
ACCUSTOMED, CEREMONIOUS

" . . . he could spin the web
between what he had read
and what had happened in the supermarket,
or what he had heard on the radio." (149)

Sarah Blake (b. 1960)
from her novel The Guest Book

*********

"It seems to me that when you look back at a life, yours or another's, what you see is a path that weaves into and out of deep shadow. So much is lost. What we use to construct the past is what has remained in the open, a hodgepodge of fleeting glimpses. Our histories...are structures built of toothpicks. So what I recall . . . is a construct both of what stands in the light and what I imagine in the darkness where I cannot see...." (302)

William Kent Krueger (b 1950)
from his novel Ordinary Grace

*********
So this post is about spinning a web between several contemporary novels, and weaving a path of shared connections almost too numerous to track. Like the above narrators, I want to spin a web between what I've been hearing, seeing, and reading; to weave a path from from the supermarket to the library, from netflix to amazon, from Blake to Krueger, and beyond.

Reading all of these novels within a few weeks of each other, I repeatedly encountered not only the overarching themes of hope and despair (actually, more despair than hope in every case) but also a variety of odd coincidental details that continually caught me by surprise. How life affirming to connect the dots from one recurring motif to the next, searching and waiting for a pattern to emerge.

First of all, location is practically a character in each of the following stories. Time and place dominates each narrative, beautifully expressed in this initial description of Ann Arbor's Island Park:

"In any quiet town you can find
a street, a field, a stand of trees,
which breaks into the dreams of its citizens
years after the dreamers have left home for good." (93)

Nancy Willard (1936 - 2017)
from her novel Things Invisible to See

*********
Check out the place names and locales, each so unique:

Things Invisible To See (1985)
Nancy Willard
Ann Arbor, Michigan (1940s)

Black Girl / White Girl (2006)
Joyce Carol Oates
Schuylersville & Chadds Ford, Pennsylvania (1974 - 1975)

Olive Kitteridge (2008)
Elizabeth Strout
Crosby, Maine (1970s - present day)

Ordinary Grace (2013)
William Kent Krueger
New Bremen, Minnesota (1961)

Eleanor Oliphant Is Completely Fine (2017)
Gail Honeyman
Glasgow, Scotland (present day)

The Guest Book (2019)
by Sarah Blake
New York City & Crockett's Island, Maine (1930s - present day)

*********
Following the path that weaves in and out of these narratives, I encountered the following series of recurring thoughts and incidents that struck me as well worth jotting down as I moved from novel to novel:

1. How about those major league baseball subplots in Ordinary Grace and Things Invisible to See?

2. The deadly fires in Eleanor Oliphant and Black Girl / White Girl

[There is also a similar fire in Deadwater Fell, a series that I happened to be watching at the same time]

3. The damaged childhoods of the title characters, Eleanor Oliphant and Olive Kitteridge (as well as her husband Henry, and her former student Kevin), and Generva Mead (the white girl of Black Girl / White Girl). For example:

Eleanor is puzzled when an elderly friend says, "That's all you ever want for your kids: for them to be happy." She ponders this: "Was that what people wanted for their children, for them to be happy? It certainly sounded plausible" (164). For Eleanor, however, a survivor of childhood trauma and inadequate parenting, this has never been the case.

Nor for Generva, who thinks: "This woman who was my mother and whom I was obliged to love, to feel very sorry for and to love, to be embarrassed of, ashamed of, impatient and disgusted with yet to love, this woman and I were - what were we doing?...How rapidly my hippie-mom had changed. How furious, and radiant in her fury. I realized her contempt for me, in my naivete I had imagined it was I who felt a mild daughterly contempt for her....there was nice-Mommy and bad-Mommy the one hidden inside the other like a jack-in-the-box. I had not liked surprises as a child...toys that sprang up into my face....toys that erupted in noise." (135 - 36)

Generva's older brother confides bitterly, "I'll never forgive them, Genna. Those 'adults,' our parents. Exposing us to that life. You, at that age."

"Rickie, I'm fine, I lost my capacity for surprise, that's all."

"You don't know know what you lost, Genna. It's in the nature of loss, you never know." (220)

When she is 72 years old, Olive's adult son Christopher bravely confronts his mother after years of accomodating her passive-aggressive behavior: "I was hoping that things had changed, that this wouldn't happen. But, Mom, I'm not going to take responsibility for the extreme capriciousness of your moods. If something happened to upset you, you should tell me. That way we can talk....You kind of behave like a paranoid, Mom. You always have. At least a lot, anyway. And I never see you taking any responsibility for it. One minute you're one way, the next-you're furious. It's tiring, very wearing for those around you."

His wife Ann tries to help: "No one called you any names. Chris was only trying to tell you that your moods change kind of fast sometimes, and it's been hard. For him growing up, you know. Never knowing."

This only angers Olive further, but Christopher forges ahead with more courage than many adult children can muster: "You say you want to leave, then accuse me of kicking you out. In the past, it would make me feel terrible, but I'm not going to feel terrible now. Because this is not my doing. You just don't seem to notice your actions bring reactions...if you think about it, you'll see that the story is quite different. You have a bad temper. At least I think it's a temper. I don't really know what it is. But you can make people feel terrible. You made Daddy feel terrible....I'm not going to be ruled by fear of you, Mom." (228 - 30)

[Similar themes of child abandonment -- physical and emotional arise in Deadwater Fell, and in Joker - some fairly recent catch-up Covid viewing for Gerry and me]

4. The charming back - to - school imagery:

Olive Kitteridge: " . . . smelling the schoolroom smell . . . " (72)

Eleanor Oliphant:

" . . . on a 'back-to-school shopping trip.' All three of us were allowed to choose new shoes and a new school-bag, and were kitted out with a brand-new uniform . . . Best of all, the trip culminated with a visit to WHSmith, where the riches of the stationery aisle were ours to plunder. Even the most recondite items (set squares, butterfly pins, treaury tags: what were these for?) were permitted, and this booty was then zipped into a large, handsome pencil case which was mine, mine, mine. I am not generally a wearer of perfume . . . but, were it possible to purchase a bottle in which the scent of new pencil shavings and the petroleum reek of a freshly rubbed eraser were combined, I would happily douse myself with it on a daily basis." (305 - 06)

5. The not - so - charming defiling / defacing of clothing with a black magic marker:

Olive Kitteridge: "The beige sweater is thick . . . Olive unfolds it quickly and smears a blackline of Magic Marker down one arm. Then . . . refolds the sweater hurriedly . . . " (72)

Black Girl / White Girl: "On March 7, 1975, Minette Swift claimed to have returned to her locker in the physical education building after gym class, to discover that a sweater of hers had been 'defiled' with a black marker pen. Minette did not want the incident formally reported because she didn't want 'more hassle' but she'd demanded of the dean of students that she be excused from physical education for the remainder of the term, and the dean had concurred." (200)

6. The specter of CVS as a harbinger of the charmless future's displacement of the quaint old - time, old - town, good old days.

Oridnary Grace: "Halderson's Drugstore is now a video store and tanning salon. The shop where Mr. Baake once held forth with barber scissors is called The Shear Delight and caters mostly to women. The police department still borders on the square, housed inside the same stone walls that were laid when the town was first platted. The interior, I've been told has been modernized but I have no desire to see it. For me it will always exist as it did that long ago summer night I first saw it . . . " (303)

Olive Kitteridge: "He passes by where the pharmacy used to be. In its place now is a large chain drugstore with huge glass sliding doors, covering the ground where both the old pharmacy and grocery store stood, large enought so that the black parkig lot where Henry would linger with Denise by the dumpster at day's end before getting into their separate cars -- all this is now taken over by a store that sells not only drugs, but huge rolls of paper towels and boxes of all sizes of garbage bags. Even plates and mugs can be bought there, spatulas, cat food. The trees off to the side have been cut down to make a parking lots. You get used to things, he thinks, without getting used to things." (15 - 16; 143)

"Or, as Eleanor Oliphant says:
"It's both good and bad, how humans
can learn to tolerate pretty much anything,
if they have to." (210)
7. A couple of references to hymn singing:

Eleanor Oliphant: "When did people become embarrassed to sing in public? Was it because of the decline in churchgoing?...Surely this was the ultimate in disrespect - to attend a man's funeral and mumble during hymns which, however dreary, had been specifically selected to commemorate his life?...The words were incredibly sad, and...entirely without hope, or comfort, but still; it was our duty to sing them to the best of our ability, and to sing proudly, in honor of Sammy." (195)

Olive Kitteridge: Henry "opens the hymnal. 'A mighty fortress is our God, a bulwark never failing.' The words, the sound of the few people singing, make him both hopeful and deeply sad." (27)


8. What I call the miracle of oxygen, described with such lyrical accuracy in Ordinary Grace and Olive Kitteridge:

"They're never far from us, you know. . . .
The dead. No more'n a breath.
You let that last one go and you're with them again. . . .
They're in our hearts and on our minds and in the end
all that separates us from them is a single breath,
one final puff of air." (305, 307)

William Kent Krueger (b 1950)
last line of his novel Ordinary Grace

and in Olive Kitteridge

" . . . the system of respiration alone
was miraculous, a creation by a splendid power." (15)

*********

In each of the above novels,
there is the breath of life.
Breathe deep and give them a try!

Always Be Breathing
Always Be Spinning ~ Always Be Weaving!
String Art by Sam

Next Fortnightly Post
Saturday, November 28th

Between now and then, read
THE QUOTIDIAN KIT ~ "The Quotidian Life Is Not Always Easy"
my shorter, almost daily blog posts
www.dailykitticarriker.blogspot.com

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

The Birkinbine Millers of Oak Street

MY GREAT - GREAT GRANDPARENTS
ACCUSTOMED, CEREMONIOUS

Henry Wise Miller
(May 27, 1834 ~ October 29, 1915)
&
Elizabeth Birkinbine Miller
(February 28, 1838 ~ March 28, 1925)

~ 17 Oak Street ~ Emporia, Kansas ~
I wish the photo was labeled to indicate who is standing in front of the house.
My guess is Elizabeth to the left,
and her grand-daughter Rovilla (my grandmother) to the right.

 ~ Henry Miller's tailor shop in Emporia, Kansas ~
He shared the space with his son - in - law,
Nathaniel Reider, who ran a shoe shop
at the corner of 4th Avenue & Commercial Street.

Public notice for visible display,
indicating that the owner -- Henry Wise Miller --
had purchased a legal license from the U.S. government
to manufacture and sell cigars!

Not easy to read, but here’s what it says:

(41)

U. S. INTERNAL REVENUE

COLLECTOR'S CERTIFICATE TO MANUFACTURER OF TOBACCO OR CIGARS

(To be issued upon the approval of the Manufacturer's Bond and posted in a conspicuous place in the Manufactory. Failure to obtain the Certificate or to keep it posted renders the Manufacturer liable to a fine of not less than one hundred dollars. Sections 63 and 82, Act of July 20, 1868.)

I hereby certify That "Henry W. Miller"
Manufacturer of "Cigars" at "Kleinfeltersville,
Lebanon County [Pennsylvania]" (Being Manufactory No. 188) has given bond
to the United States in the sum of "One thousand"
dollars, which includes . . .

The sum of one hundred dollars each for "Five" persons
employed in making cigars ____________$ "500"

In witness whereof, I have here unto affixed my hand and seal
at Pottsville [Pennsylvania], this 7th day of May 1873

J. G. Frick, Collector
10th District of PA [Pennsylvania]
W. E. Davis
[plus some additional official initials -- not clear]

**********************
I have known all my life about the Birkinbine Millers moving to Emporia in 1880 and the tailor shop, although the above storefront photograph was new to me. But never had I heard or seen any reference to the tobacco business until I came across this discolored IRS document, in my 2020 sorting project of family ephemera.

Looking over these various artifacts from Great - Great - Grandfather Miller's life, I can't help thinking of this haunting passage from William Soutar (1898 - 1943) and wondering if it goes both ways -- not only why do we wish to be remembered, but why do we wish to remember these dear old folks who have never looked, can never look, upon our face?

Is it their love or approval that we seek? Or perhaps the opportunitity to say, "Look at us; we are your great - great - grands! It was all worth it! We're going to the future and taking you with us!" Whatever our motiviation, we sense their unseen presence, whenever we look at the old photos, visit the cemetery, or honor the ancestors, on Memorial Day or Dia de los Muertos:

"Why do we wish to be remembered, even when none remain who looked upon our face? Surely, though it must retain an element of self- consideration, it is a last acknowledgment that we need to be loved; and, having gone from all touch, we trust that memory may, as it were, keep our unseen presence within the borders of day."

William Soutar (1898 - 1943)
Scottish poet & diarist

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

Remembering Henry Wise Miller
on the 105th anniversary of his death.
Henry's daughter Anna Mary wrote a letter at the time of his death, sent from the family home on Oak Street (pictured above) to her daughter Rovilla (my grandmother) in another small Kansas town, a hundred miles away. Anna includes news of the family both local and extended, describes what further tasks she hopes to complete for her newly widowed mother, and gives details of the funeral, which was conducted in German. Henry died on October 29th, and the funeral was the 31st. All Hallow's Eve fell on a Sunday that year. The letter begins:

Emporia 10 / 31 - 1915

Dear Papa [her husband William Michael Heidemann] & Rovilla,

This is Sunday evening: Jake and Alice [two of her siblings] are with us this evening. Well we have buried our Grandpa. It was a very pretty day. We had short services at the house at 2 o'clock, a hymn & read a chapter of the Bible & then we took him to the church where we had first a song by the choir ["Wo findet die Seele, die Heimat die Ruh" / "O where is the home of the soul to be found?"], then Rev. John Naninnga read I Corinthians 2: 1 - 10, then a hymn by the choir ["Hier auf Erden bin ich ein Pilger" / "I'm a Pilgrim, and I'm a stranger" ], then Rev. Josef Brandt preached from Job 19: 25 - 27. He surely preached a good sermon in German, after which Rev. Steinmetz spoke a few words from Chapter 1 of Job, than another hymn ("Abide With Me").

He also spoke so good; I wish that all English people could have understood it. The church was full. It seems so lonesome this evening. Grandpa's coffin was covered with the prettiest flowers, white and purple & tied with pretty purple chiffon ribbons. Nathaniel [Henry's son - in - law mentioned above; married to Alice] took a picture of the casket & flowers, so you can see later on how it looked. I was sure looking for Harry but he sent a telegram that he could not come. . . . I have seen many of the old acquaintances since Father has been sick. I am surely anxious to come home. But first we have to do all the washing. Then I intend to clean up all the house & get the boys more comfortable [not sure who she means, as there were no youngsters or young men remaining at home]. We were upside down more or less all the time. It is a wonder Fred did not get homesick; maybe he did but he would not let on.

This is Monday: Received your letter, sure glad to hear from all. Alice is trimming Grandma's bonnet over this morning. They intend to go home this evening at five. This afternoon Alice Reider & I are going out to the cemetery to fix Uncle Will's grave [Anna's older brother / Henry & Elizabeth's eldest son, who had died of cancer in 1893, at age 28] & to put flowers on. Then tomorrow, I will commence to do the washing. I cannot set a day yet to come home, unless Mother would rather do part of the work herself. The house is very dirty, needs carpets taken up.... I got one night's rest, but sleep is gone away from us, but we will come to it again. Well I must close and hope your are both well, that is my prayer.

from Mamma

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Anna Mary Miller Heidemann
December 29, 1862 ~ January 3, 1923

Some of Anna's ornate calling cards
from before her marriage:

Wish I could have found a card for
William Birkinbine Miller

Next Fortnightly Post
Saturday, November 14th

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.blogspot.com

You Will Be the Light

MOONLIGHT
ACCUSTOMED, CEREMONIOUS

This tender melody is my latest favorite --
a song to truly break your heart.
We keep losing loved ones this year --
and not even to coronavirus.
Every single time it happens,
these haunting lyrics come to mind:

You Will Be the Light

You'll never be the sun turning in the sky
And you won't be the moon above us on a moonlit night
And you won't be the stars in heaven
Although they burn so bright
But even on the deepest ocean
You will be the light

You may not always shine
As you go barefoot over stone
You might be so long together
Or you might walk alone
And you won't find that love comes easy
But that love is always right
So even when the dark clouds gather
You will be the light

And if you lose the part inside
When loves turns round on you
Leaving the past behind
Is knowing you'll do like you always do
Holding you blind, keeping you true

You'll never be the sun turning in the sky
And you won't be the moon above us on a moonlit night
And you won't be the stars in heaven
Although they burn so bright
But even on the deepest ocean
You will be the light

Songwriter: Donagh Long
Performed by: Dolly, Emmylou, Linda
Also by Dolores Keane

The Full Corn Moon,
pinning all our hopes on September

“We are here because we are born with the capacity
to find hidden light in all events and all people,
to lift it up and make it visible once again and
thereby to restore the innate wholeness of the world."  

from Becoming Wise: An Inquiry into
the Mystery and Art of Living (p 25)
 by Krista Tippett 

Looking past the bothersome, worrisome, sad aspects of 2020, September was still magical; October is still mystical -- and this year, even more so! Most years it's easy: the Harvest Moon is in September, the Hunter's Moon in October. However, 2020, is one of those special years when October plays host to both big enchanting fall moons, due to the September moon being full so early in the month (the 2nd), nearly three weeks before the autumnal equinox (the 22nd).

By definition any year's Harvest Moon is the one that falls closest to the autumnal equinox (aka Mabon). This year, that honor goes to the full moon of October 1st, as does the honor of the Full Hunter's Moon on October 31st. A Blue Moon in the sky on Halloween / Saturday night -- perfect cosmic alignment for a perfectly spellbinding holiday. If only it weren't 2020, alas . . .

Harvest Moonrise,
a hopeful October
and tiny green Halloween ghost
flying around our neighbors’ window!

" . . . suddenly death seems easier, more inevitable than life.
 . . . [but] I try to appreciate the joy of the moment
without the sorrow."

from Shabanu: Daughter of the Wind (pp 16, 231)
by Suzanne Fisher Staples

July 2019 & July 2020

“The world will never starve for want of wonders;
but only for want of wonder.” 

from Tremendous Trifles (p 3)
by G.K. Chesterton 

More Light!

Next Fortnightly Post
Wednesday, October 28th

Between now and then, read
THE QUOTIDIAN KIT ~ "Finding the Light"
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.blogspot.com