A Heart That Watches and Receives

WHERE ALL'S ACCUSTOMED, CEREMONIOUS

Woman Reading
Robert James Gordon, 1845 - 1932
[still trying to learn more about this artist]
Tomorrow is the first day of March! It may not be the first mild day of March, but whether the weather be lion or lamb the first of March is here, a day often associated with the New Year and new beginnings. As keen romantic William Wordsworth says in his poem "To My Sister," we have before us a day of "blessing," an "hour of feeling." I like the way that he feels free to discount January and February as not quite living up to his expectations:

No joyless forms shall regulate
Our living calendar:
We from to-day, my Friend, will date
The opening of the year.
For Wordsworth, it is the long - awaited month of March that captures "the spirit of the season" and sets the true course for the remainder of the year. He doesn't want his sister, or anyone else, to miss out on his sense of urgency and certainty that "One moment now may give us more / Than years of toiling reason":

Some silent laws our hearts will make,
Which they shall long obey:
We for the year to come may take
Our temper from to-day.
The poem is an impulsive celebration of nature, and such an earnest combination of wise passiveness and brotherly love that I can hardly read it without feeling convinced:

To My Sister
It is the first mild day of March:
Each minute sweeter than before
The redbreast sings from the tall larch
That stands beside our door.

There is a blessing in the air,
Which seems a sense of joy to yield
To the bare trees, and mountains bare,
And grass in the green field.

My sister! ('tis a wish of mine)
Now that our morning meal is done,
Make haste, your morning task resign;
Come forth and feel the sun.

Edward will come with you;--and, pray,
Put on with speed your woodland dress;
And bring no book: for this one day
We'll give to idleness.

No joyless forms shall regulate
Our living calendar:
We from to-day, my Friend, will date
The opening of the year.

Love, now a universal birth,
From heart to heart is stealing,
From earth to man, from man to earth:
--It is the hour of feeling.

One moment now may give us more
Than years of toiling reason:
Our minds shall drink at every pore
The spirit of the season.

Some silent laws our hearts will make,
Which they shall long obey:
We for the year to come may take
Our temper from to-day.

And from the blessed power that rolls
About, below, above,
We'll frame the measure of our souls:
They shall be tuned to love.

Then come, my Sister! come, I pray,
With speed put on your woodland dress;
And bring no book: for this one day
We'll give to idleness.

It always amuses me that he makes mention of breakfast (something hearty, I trust!) and then instructs his sister to don her "woodland dress." I love to imagine this garment! What might Dorothy have chosen to wear that day? Perhaps it was something similar to the fashions in this painting by Harold Knight or the one above by Robert Gordon. If these portraits are any indication, it would seem that the perfect accessory for a woodland dress is always, surely a book! No matter what Wordsworth might say!

Girl Stands in a Field Reading Her Book
Harold Knight, 1874 - 1961
Even when planning a day of idleness and joy, Wordsworth hopes to impose an agenda: no tasks, no books! He is romantic but also didactic. In this next poem, he seems almost to be joking, but not quite. His message is sincere: Fall in love with Nature! Open your heart! And his closing image -- "a heart that watches and receives" -- is one of his most beautiful.

The Tables Turned: An Evening Scene on the Same Subject
Up! up! my Friend, and quit your books;
Or surely you'll grow double:
Up! up! my Friend, and clear your looks;
Why all this toil and trouble?

The sun above the mountain's head,
A freshening lustre mellow
Through all the long green fields has spread,
His first sweet evening yellow.

Books! 'tis a dull and endless strife:
Come, hear the woodland linnet,
How sweet his music! on my life,
There's more of wisdom in it.

And hark! how blithe the throstle sings!
He, too, is no mean preacher:
Come forth into the light of things,
Let Nature be your teacher.

She has a world of ready wealth,
Our minds and hearts to bless—
Spontaneous wisdom breathed by health,
Truth breathed by cheerfulness.

One impulse from a vernal wood
May teach you more of man,
Of moral evil and of good,
Than all the sages can.

Sweet is the lore which Nature brings;
Our meddling intellect
Mis-shapes the beauteous forms of things:—
We murder to dissect.

Enough of Science and of Art;
Close up those barren leaves;
Come forth, and bring with you a heart
That watches and receives.

both poems written in 1798
by William Wordsworth , 1770 – 1850
Major English Romantic Poet

A Heart That Watches and Receives

For me, these two poems by Wordsworth -- "To My Sister" and "The Tables Turned" -- remain forever connected with that lush and hazy song from the 70s -- "The Air That I Breathe." Remember? My friend Marilyn used to say, "What? No books to read? That can't be right!"

Whenever we happened to hear it on the radio, Marilyn would always express her dismay. She was torn; she wanted to like it; but why No books to read? What kind of paradise would that be?" No sleep -- okay. Nothing to eat -- okay. But no books? Not okay!"

Although it is still a favorite, I never hear it without the memory of Marilyn's wise words!

The Air That I Breathe
[click to listen]
If I could make a wish, I think I'd pass
Can't think of anything I need
No cigarettes, no sleep, no light, no sound
Nothing to eat, no books to read

Making love with you
Has left me peaceful, warm and tired
What more could I ask
There's nothing left, to be desired

Peace came upon me
And it leaves me weak
So sleep, silent angel
Go to sleep

Sometimes
All I need is the air
That I breathe
And to love you

All I need is the air
That I breathe

Just to love you
All I need is the air
That I breathe . . .

sung by The Hollies
written by Albert Louis Hammond / Mike Hazlewood
Lyrics © EMI Music Publishing
Copyright: Imagem Songs Ltd.

Photo from last year ~ March 1, 2013
Thanks George Sfedu

SEE YOU IN TWO WEEKS FOR MY
Next Fortnightly Post
Friday, March 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

Inordinately Realistic

ACCUSTOMED, CEREMONIOUS

A HAPPY SNOWY VALENTINE'S DAY!
Plow & Hearth Birdseed Wands
Not to be too cynical on Valentine's Day, but while driving along in the car one day last summer with the radio on, the irony of these lines from the ABBA song "Angel Eyes" caught my attention:

"And it hurts to remember all the good times
When I thought I could never live without him"
For months, my brain has been circling around these lyrics, and now seems a good time to take a closer look at the irony. The singer's fondest thoughts are of a time in her relationship when she "thought she could never live without him." I usually just sing along, but this time, I started to wonder, How good of a relationship was that? Or how bad? Bad enough to make me rethink the nostalgia that I have for some of my good / bad old days. What am I recalling with such fondness? The years when I thought that my heart would break in two? Well, if those were the good times, maybe they weren't so good after all despite the hazy romantic edges of memory. Perhaps the narrator is saying that it hurts now because those times were so great and now they are gone for good. More likely, I suspect she's recalling a time that may have seemed good enough but was also hurtful -- and that's why it hurts to remember.

Good times shouldn't hurt, yet sometimes from the very beginning, a relationship consists primarily of the kind of good times that it hurts to remember. Come to think of it, it can even hurt to have some of those good times in the first place. Kind of like -- in my chick flick choice for Valentine's Day this year -- Georgy Girl's relationship with Jos.

As Georgy learns, those are the kind of good times that you have to stay away from. Learn what you can and move on. I was pretty pleased with myself twenty - five years ago, when Gerry and I completed some personality profile questionnaires to help us understand our relational issues, compatibility levels, and marital readiness. When I scored in the range of "Inordinately Realistic," I was convinced that I had used all of my bad relationships wisely!

In honor of Valentine's Day, here are a few inordinately realistic proverbs that have spoken to my heart in troubled times:

"A long time ago I was desperately in love.
In fact, you could leave out the 'love'
and still get a pretty good picture."
from "True Romances #2"
in True Stories
by Margaret Atwood

" 'Love,' says Squire Allworthy, 'however much we may corrupt and pervert its meaning . . . remains a rational passion.' "
from Tom Jones
by Henry Fielding

"It is overdoing the thing to die of love."
~ French Proverb ~

"After awhile you begin to realize that lots of people have had
previous marriages that just never come up in conversation.
Especially if there are no children, then it's really nothing
more than a bad date, a long bad date."
~ A Wise Friend ~

"I can't believe we once threw dishes at each other, but we did.
I can remember which plates, which cups, which glasses,
and which ones broke."
~ Margaret Atwood / same story as above ~

"What can be broken, can be fixed, he thought.
What can be broken, can be fixed.
There was a dimension to all of this he had to ignore,
a reality, if you will.
But a balance wheel can be reattached,
a shaft can be machined, from scratch if necessary.
Still, it would be too late for him.
The normal, or maybe not the normal,
part of the doll still worked perfectly.
The other could be fixed.
But not for him, never for him, fixed or not, that was gone forever."
from "Moriya"
in By The Light of the Jukebox
by Dean Paschal

Inordinately realistic or not, I still adore a sentimental Valentine!
~ like this collage of vintage favorites from my friends Diane Cox
and Victoria Amador (whose name is perfect for Valentine's Day)!
SEE YOU IN TWO WEEKS FOR MY
Next Fortnightly Post
Friday, February 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.blogspot.com

Good Intentions

WHERE ALL'S ACCUSTOMED, CEREMONIOUS

Sunrise ~ A New Day
photo taken by Gerry McCartney ~ 22 January 2014
There's no time like January for good intentions. Hearing that phrase reminds me, every time, of the opening parable in The Joy Luck Club about the mother who wanted to bring her daughter a swan from the old country. To her consternation, the swan is seized at customs and she's left with only a single feather to represent her good intentions, her robust hopes reduced to a mere wisp: "For a long time now the woman had wanted to give her daughter the single swan feather and tell her, 'This feather may look worthless, but it comes from afar and carries with it all my good intentions,'" (17).

With each new year, it's good to replenish our optimism and dream big, or as American songwriter Woody Guthrie -- named after Woodrow Wilson -- wrote, dream good!

[Click on notebook for a better view!]
Even printed so neatly by Woody -- and enlarged as much as possible by blogspot -- it's not easy to read this photograph, so here in boldface is Woody Guthrie's New Year's Resolution List, 1942:

1. Work more and better
2. Work by a schedule
3. Wash teeth if any
4. Shave
5. Take bath
6. Eat good — fruit — vegetables — milk
7. Drink very scant if any
8. Write a song a day
9. Wear clean clothes — look good
10. Shine shoes
11. Change socks
12. Change bed cloths often
13. Read lots good books
14. Listen to radio a lot
15. Learn people better
16. Keep rancho clean
17. Dont get lonesome
18. Stay glad
19. Keep hoping machine running
20. Dream good
21. Bank all extra money
22. Save dough
23. Have company but dont waste time
24. Send Mary and kids money
25. Play and sing good
26. Dance better
27. Help win war — beat fascism
28. Love mama
29. Love papa
30. Love Pete
31. Love everybody
32. Make up your mind
33. Wake up and fight
A few years before Guthrie's list, novelist F. Scott Fitzgerald -- named after Francis Scott Key -- compiled a list of directives for his daughter, Frances Scott Fitzgerald, who was eleven years old at the time. Some have seen Fitzgerald's list as fantastic advice whereas others suggest he should have spared his little girl all this terrible advice and, instead, heeded it himself:

Things to worry about:

Worry about courage
Worry about cleanliness
Worry about efficiency
Worry about horsemanship

Things not to worry about:

Don't worry about popular opinion
Don't worry about dolls

[What is Fitzgerald saying? With all due respect, I must object!
Dolls are definitely worth worrying about!]

Don't worry about the past
Don't worry about the future
Don't worry about growing up
Don't worry about anybody getting ahead of you
Don't worry about triumph
Don't worry about failure unless it comes through your own fault
Don't worry about mosquitoes
Don't worry about flies
Don't worry about insects in general
Don't worry about parents
Don't worry about boys
Don't worry about disappointments
Don't worry about pleasures
Don't worry about satisfactions
Things to think about:
What am I really aiming at?

How good am I really in comparison to my contemporaries
in regard to:
(a) Scholarship
(b) Do I really understand about people
and am I able to get along with them?
(c) Am I trying to make my body a useful instrument
or am I neglecting it?
What makes Fitzgerald's fatherly advice of 1933 especially interesting -- in addition to its applicability to his own disposition -- is reading it along side the "Schedule" that he wrote on behalf of his character, Jay Gatsby, in 1925. After Gatsby's funeral, his father, Mr. Gatz sadly shares with Nick Carraway his most treasured keepsake of his son, " . . . a ragged old copy of a book called Hopalong Cassidy":

"Look here, this is a book he had when he was a boy. It just shows you.”

He opened it at the back cover and turned it around for me to see. On the last fly-leaf was printed the word Schedule, and the date September 12, 1906, and underneath:

Rise from bed................ 6.00 a.m
Dumbbell exercise and wall-scaling...... 6.15-6.30 ”
Study electricity, etc. ........... 7.15-8.15 ”
Work..................... 8.30-4.30 p.m
Baseball and sports............. 4.30-5.00 ”
Practice elocution, poise and how to attain it 5.00-6.00 ”
Study needed inventions........... 7.00-9.00 ”

GENERAL RESOLVES

No wasting time at Shafters or [a name, indecipherable]
No more smoking or chewing
Bath every other day
Read one improving book or magazine per week
Save $5.00 {crossed out} $3.00 per week
Be better to parents
“I come across this book by accident,” said the old man. “It just shows you, don’t it?”

“It just shows you.”

“Jimmy was bound to get ahead. He always had some resolves like this or something. Do you notice what he’s got about improving his mind? He was always great for that. He told me I et like a hog once, and I beat him for it.”

He was reluctant to close the book, reading each item aloud and then looking eagerly at me. I think he rather expected me to copy down the list for my own use. (173 - 74)

The fatherly pride of Mr. Gatz and the earnestness of sixteen - year - old Gatsby's self - improvement list is heart - breaking, knowing as we do the failure of Gatsby's dream, but his resolve is admirable.

More light - hearted, but equally intense in its own way, is the schedule made by Oskar's friend Klepp in The Tin Drum, written in 1959 by Nobel prize winner Gunter Grass:

"Klepp often spends hours drawing up schedules. . . . This year again Klepp has spent more than two weeks trying to schedule his activities. . . . I looked through his handiwork, there was nothing very new about it:

breakfast at ten;
contemplation until lunchtime;
after lunch a nap (one hour),
then coffee, in bed if transportation was available;
flute playing in bed (one hour);
get up;
play bagpipes while marching round the room (one hour);
more bagpipes out in the courtyard (half an hour).

Next came a two - hour period, spend every other day over
beer and blood sausage and the alternate day at the movies;
in either case, before the movies or over the beer,
discreet propaganda for the illegal Communist Party of Germany,
not to exceed half an hour, mustn't overdo it.

Three nights a week to be send playing dance music at the Unicorn;
on Saturday, beer and propaganda transferred to the evening,
afternoon reserved for a bath and massage in Grunstrasse,
followed by hygiene with girl (three - quarters of an hour)at the "U9,"
then with the same girl and her girl friend coffee and cake at Schwab's,
a shave and if necessary a haircut just before the barber's closing time;
quick to the Photomaton;
then beer, blood sausage, Party propaganda, and relaxation."
I admired Klepp's carefully custom - made schedule, asked him for a copy and inquired what he did to fill in occasional gaps. "Sleep, or think of the Party," he replied after the briefest reflection." (pp 72 - 3)

Contemplation until lunchtime. Very important! I love that! Another favorite is the typical day of a typical student as set forth in Flann O'Brien's comic metafiction, At Swim Two Birds, written in 1939 (and humorously described by my friend Professor Leonard Orr as "a valuable self-help book in the guise of a novel"):

While I was engaged in the spare - time literary activities of which the preceding and following pages may be cited as more or less typical examples, I was leading a life of a dull but not uncomfortable character. The following approximate schedule of my quotidian activities may be of some interest to the lay reader:

Nature of daily regime or curriculum: Nine-thirty a.m.
rise, wash, shave and proceed to breakfast; this on the insistence of my uncle, who was accustomed to regard himself as the sun of his household, recalling all things to wakefulness on his own rising.

10.30. Return to bedroom.

12.00. Go, weather permitting, to College, there conducting light conversation on diverse topics with friends, or with acquaintances of a casual character.

2.00 p.m. Go home for lunch.

3.00. Return to bedroom. Engage in spare - time literary activity,
or read.

6.00. Have tea in company with my uncle, attending in a perfunctory manner to the replies required by his talk.

7.00. Return to bedroom and rest in darkness.

8.00. Continue resting or meet acquaintances in open thoroughfares or places of public resort.

11.00. Return to bedroom." (p 212)
A similar life of spare - time literary activity (my favorite!) is led, apparently, by the two students, Giles and Jesse, in John Galsworthy's 1906 novel, The Man of Property (Book One of the Forsyte Saga):

"These two, Giles and Jesse, were so alike and so inseparable that they were known as the Dromios. They never talked, and seemed always completely occupied in doing nothing. It was popularly supposed that they were cramming for an important examination. They walked without hats for long hours in the Gardens attached to their house, books in their hands, a fox-terrier at their heels, never saying a word, and smoking all the time. Every morning, about fifty yards apart, they trotted down Campden Hill on two lean hacks, with legs as long as their own, and every morning about an hour later, still fifty yards apart, they cantered up again. Every evening, wherever they had dined, they might be observed about half-past ten, leaning over the balustrade of the Alhambra promenade.

"They were never seen otherwise than together; in this way passing their lives, apparently perfectly content." (found in Part III, Chapter 24, "Mrs. Macander's Evidence" p 232; in some editions, p 297).

Even more frivolous than the daily routine of the Dromios is that of the The Lethargarians, Inhabitants of the Doldrums, in The Phantom Tollbooth, one of those novels for kids of all ages, written in 1961 by Norton Juster, illustrated by Jules Feiffer:

"Well, if you can't laugh or think, what can you do?" asked Milo.

"Anything as long as it's nothing, and everything as long as it isn't anything," explained another. "There's lots to do; we have a very busy schedule --

"At 8 o'clock we get up, and then we spend

"From 8 to 9 daydreaming.

"From 9 to 9:30 we take our early midmorning nap.

"From 9:30 to 10:30 we dawdle and delay.

"From 10:30 to 11:30 we take our late early morning nap.

"From ll:00 to 12:00 we bide our time and then eat lunch.

"From l:00 to 2:00 we linger and loiter.

"From 2:00 to 2:30 we take our early afternoon nap.

"From 2:30 to 3:30 we put off for tomorrow what we could have done today.

"From 3:30 to 4:00 we take our early late afternoon nap.

"From 4:00 to 5:00 we loaf and lounge until dinner.

"From 6:00 to 7:00 we dillydally.

"From 7:00 to 8:00 we take our early evening nap, and then for an hour before we go to bed at 9:00 we waste time.
"As you can see, that leaves almost no time for brooding, lagging, plodding, or procrastinating, and if we stopped to think or laugh, we'd never get nothing done."

"You mean you'd never get anything done," corrected Milo.

"We don't want to get anything done," snapped another angrily; "we want to get nothing done, and we can do that without your help."

"You see," continued another in a more conciliatory tone, "it's really quite strenuous doing nothing all day, so once a week we take a holiday and go nowhere, which was just where we were going when you came along. Would you care to join us?" (pp 26 - 7)

No matter how silly or eccentric, each of these schedules offers some truth toward an ordered existence. From Guthrie's determination, to Fitzgerald's didacticism and Gatsby's zeal; from Klepp's obsessions to the students' self - absorption and the Lethargarians' inverse industry, there is an attention to detail and a quest to fill each hour that heightens our own self - awareness as we organize our good intentions for the remainder of the New Year.

Another Sunrise photo by Gerry McCartney

Early Morning View of Navy Pier as seen from
Northwestern University Arthur Rubloff Building / School of Law,
downtown Chicago ~ 30 November 2012
SEE YOU IN TWO WEEKS FOR MY
Next Fortnightly Post
Friday, February 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

Snow Was General

A HOUSE WHERE ALL'S ACCUSTOMED, CEREMONIOUS

The New Year has begun with a great series of connections and coincidences! To begin with, as nearly a foot of snow fell outside and the Polar Vortex delivered sub - zero temperatures, I spent the Twelfth Day of Christmas rereading "The Dead" -- the final story in the sequence of fifteen stories that comprise James Joyce's Dubliners -- in preparation for rewatching the movie version, which I always like to view with my family on Twelfth Night or Epiphany, in the same way that I always like to rewatch V for Vendetta on Guy Fawkes' Night.

I first saw the film The Dead shortly after it came out, at the Miami Joyce Birthday Conference (2 February 1988). For years we owned the video but donated it to the library when we moved, intending to update to a DVD But no! For some unknown and disappointing reason, the movie disappeared from circulation -- unavailable to buy on amazon or to rent from netflix. Until very recently:

I've read a few complaints about the way Anjelica Huston has been weirdly air - brushed on the cover of this re - release and given the rose in her hand, but I can overlook these minor details because the movie narration is exactly true to the James Joyce short story and Dublin looks so lovely! More serious is the fact that eight minutes of the original film have been omitted, but until such time that the complete version is restored, I think you'll find this one very satisfying!

I asked some of my fellow modernists what they thought about the movie, and naturally the resulting facebook thread was full of interesting observations:

Ned: "Heartbreaking!"

Steven: "That's a perfect movie for 12th Night!"

Barbara: "I once rented this and made my kids watch it with me after our traditional annual St. Patrick's Day dinner. I love that film."

Curtis: "Lighting of stairway scene is not as described in the story. Otherwise, a faithful adaptation."

Kathie: "I'm not a fan, though that is most likely my failing rather than the film's. I know most whose opinions I respect (including yours!) are quite enthusiastic; it's probably that I just don't have a very nuanced or sophisticated film sensibility. The one time I watched it, I thought it made the text seem stuffy and boring--a text I find quite the opposite, at the risk of understatement. For that reason, I've never given it a second chance."

Len: "Yes, I do remember first seeing this film at the Joyce conference. I think this is one of the most successful film adaptations of a literary work. In part, this is because it is a full-length film based on a short story, in contrast to the impossible attempts to fit a novel into a film (including mini-series of Middlemarch, Bleak House, or any other work that comes to mind). I agree with Kathie's comments about this film, despite its attempts at fidelity. I am happy seeing films that are not adaptations or are based on works I have not read and do not plan to read. It is impossible for films to convey style, point-of-view, interior thought, etc."

I have to agree that it's rare for a film to improve upon an already great text, though a well - done movie can bring surprising visual or musical value to the reading experience. I appreciate this sense of embellishment in "The Dead" during Aunt Julia's sad, sweet rendition of "Arrayed for the Bridal."

In the story, Joyce writes that "Gabriel recognized the prelude. It was that of an old song of Aunt Julia's -- "Arrayed for the Bridal". Her voice, strong and clear in tone, attacked with great spirit the runs which embellish the air and though she sang very rapidly she did not miss even the smallest of the grace notes. To follow the voice, without looking at the singer's face, was to feel and share the excitement of swift and secure flight. Gabriel applauded loudly with all the others at the close of the song." Joyce devotes only those few sentences to the performance, and then it is on to the applause and the embarrassingly profuse praise of dear Freddy Malins.

In the film, John Huston portrays the scene a bit differently. Rather than "strong and clear in tone," Aunt Julia's voice wavers and we gather that it has heard better days. Huston replaces "great spirit" with faded dignity, and "swift and secure flight" with endurance and perseverance. In the text, the song title alone serves to convey the irony that a funeral -- not a wedding -- is surely the next life passage for which Aunt Julia will be arrayed (as Gabriel morbidly envisions in both book and film). What the film brings to bear, in addition to the title, are the lyrics and duration of the song. The viewing audience suffers just a bit as we patiently await the painful conclusion of Aunt Julia's tune; and our hearts break a bit as the camera roams from room to room, lighting on the homely heirlooms and mementos of bygone childhoods and long - dead relatives.

Arrayed for the Bridal
Arrayed for the bridal, in beauty behold her
A white wreath entwineth a forehead more fair;
I envy the zephyrs that softly enfold her,
And play with the locks of her beautiful hair.
May life to her prove full of sunshine and love.
Who would not love her?
Sweet star of the morning, shining so bright
Earth’s circle adorning, fair creature of light!

Composed by Bellini
Lyrics by George Linley

[And also the poem "Donal Og"
recited by the character Mr. Grace]
Of course, I know what Kathie and Len are talking about. In most cases, the best movie is the one inside my head! Or occasionally, the one right outside the window; for indeed snow was falling that night in Indiana much as it had for the Dubliners, a century or more ago:

"A few light taps upon the pane made him turn to the window. It had begun to snow again. He watched sleepily the flakes, silver and dark, falling obliquely against the lamplight. The time had come for him to set out on his journey westward. Yes, the news­pa­pers were right: snow was gen­eral all over Ire­land. It was falling softly upon the Bog of Allen and, fur­ther west­wards, softly falling into the dark muti­nous Shan­non waves. It was falling too upon every part of the lonely church­yard where Michael Furey lay buried. It lay thickly drifted on the crooked crosses and head­stones, on the spears of the lit­tle gate, on the bar­ren thorns. His soul swooned slowly as he heard the snow falling faintly through the uni­verse and faintly falling, like the descent of their last end, upon all the liv­ing and the dead."

from "The Dead"
by James Joyce
about the publication of Dubliners
Our discussion of the movie versus the story drew to a close late on January 5th; and on the 6th, I awoke to find the following pictures posted on my facebook page, from totally unrelated sources. Now, that's what I call a good literary coincidence!

1. This one from BookBrowse Books,
which illustrates the very point that both Kathie and Len
were making the day before:



2. This one from my sister - in - law Tina,
who wrote: "Happy Nollaig na mBan (Women's Little Christmas)!
Let's embrace this tradition!"

I hadn't heard of this particular Epiphany celebration before, but I think it explains why I like watching The Dead on 6 January -- it's their "Nollaig na mBan" party, with the exception that in Joyce's story, the "Three Graces," i.e., Aunt Julia, Aunt Kate, and Cousin Mary Jane are doing all the work, rather than the required "Women's Little Christmas" reversal of the gentlemen waiting hand and foot all day on the ladies. Still, I feel a strong connection! Can you see it:

Dinner Party Scene from The Dead
Custom & Ceremony

Additional fun and informative blog posts on the topic:
Nollaig na mBan faoi mhaise dhaoibh!
Nollaig Bheag na mBan
An Irish Tradition
Victoria Amador writes, "Let's do this this coming summer--
and get out the dress-up box!"
P.S. As I add a few finishing touches to this post, late on Thursday the 16th, the snow is, once again, general all over Indiana.

SEE YOU IN TWO WEEKS FOR MY
Next Fortnightly Post
Tuesday, January 28th

Between now and then, read
THE QUOTIDIAN KIT ~ "Snow Was General"
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

Wish Book

ACCUSTOMED, CEREMONIOUS

Sears Wish Book 2007 ~ Good Old Days meet New Age
Talk about custom and ceremony, and annual tradition! I don't remember my family referring to it as the "Wish Book," but I well recall the excitement of marking all of our favorite pages in the Sears Christmas Catalog every year. We were not alone!

On one holiday blog after another, the old catalogs feature as an unforgettable childhood memory. Take a look at this great site or this one for a glimpse of vintage wish books from decades gone by. How poignantly Cris Williamson captures the nostalgia in her truly unique Christmas song:

Wish - Book
When the fire danger was low
Off we'd go to Ohio
Through the cold December days
In the old black Chevrolet.

The three of us kids would sit in the back
With the wish - book catalogue on our laps
We'd dream of all the things there'd be
Underneath the Christmas tree.

And we'd say
"What'll we get when the great day's here?"
And Mama'd make the wishing - book appear
And we dreamed of life for all it was worth
And I knew the meaning of peace on earth.

As Daddy drove the car through
the middle of the night
I'd be reading by the glow of the radio light
Pointing to the pictures one - by - one
Daddy said we'd have it all when the money comes.

When my sister and brother were asleep
I'd crawl over in the front seat
And I'd sit up with Mom and Dad
And talk about all the things we'd have.

And we'd say
"What'll we get when the great day's here?"
And Mama'd make the wishing - book appear
And we dreamed of life for all it was worth
And I knew the meaning of peace on earth.

On the day that Christmas came
I found an envelope with my name
Like promises of days to be
The wish - book pictures spilled in front of me.

And, oh I tried not to feel too sad
As I read the note from Mom and Dad
That said, "Merry Christmas, little one.
This is just until the money comes."

words by Cris Williamson
music by Tret Fure and Cris Williamson
found on the album Snow Angel

I was such a lucky little kid; the Christmas that I was nine years old, I wished for an Italian Boy Doll (2nd one down on the right, wearing pale blue) and my wish came true!

Page 619 of the Sears Christmas Catalog, 1966

Christmas Day, 1966

As I've said before (on my previous post: "Boy Doll"), "my sister and I were so proud of our new dolls! If any of you ever come to visit and stay overnight, you will find Boy Doll, in pristine condition, sitting on the guest bed. I wanted this doll like crazy, but I never played with him very much and never gave him a name other than "Boy Doll." [Don't ask me why, but we had a way back then of describing our toys rather than actually naming them, as with my sister Diane's Floppy Doll.]

"Little did I know that one day a couple of decades later I would have two little blond baby boys who looked just like my Boy Doll! Or . . . wait! . . . perhaps I did know but just didn't know that I knew! Maybe Boy Doll was sent to me as an innocent little Ghost of Christmas Yet to Come!"

Fall 1990 ~ Baby Ben, propped up beside Boy Doll

Fall 1993 ~ Baby Sam, three years later

For a little Baby Boomer such as I, the Christmas Season and the Catalog Season were one and the same. But catalogs did appear at other times of year (e.g. "Back to School") and Wish Books could be for other special occasions as well (Easter dresses, prom dresses, wedding dresses). My talented cousin Robert Lindsey Nassif describes just such a special occasion in his winsome tribute to wishing and dreaming and shopping from the Sears and Roebuck Catalog. "Dreams are all I've got," croons the narrator; yet it's a dream that just might come true! Don't forget, in real life, Lady Bird Johnson's wedding ring really did come from Sears and Roebuck!

Sears and Roebuck Wedding Band
Go on, walk away.
I'm a waste of time
Can't take me to a dimestore,
'cause I haven't got a dime.

Dreams are all I got
that's not in short supply.
But, if I printed money,
then I know just what I'd buy:

That Sears and Roebuck Wedding Band
on page one hundred three.
Gold electro - plated,
with a lifetime guarantee.

That Sears and Roebuck Wedding Band
to flash before your eyes.
One in just your size.

What I can't afford,
that's what you should have.
Like, an "Acme Wonder Washer,"
or "Bonjour Parisian Salve."

Patent Leather shoes,
or a Patent - Pending Sieve,
and there's something with engraving
I'd give anything to give:

That Sears and Roebuck Wedding Band
on page one hundred three.
Gold electro - plated,
with a lifetime guarantee.

That Sears and Roebuck Wedding Band
delivered C.O.D.
Just for you, from me.

See, as long as I know
nothing's gonna come true,
guess I might as well go
for the top a the line --
for a de - luxe editon,
like you,
and that

Sears and Roebuck Wedding Band
on page one hundred three.
Gold electro - plated,
with a lifetime guarantee.

A fella needs a dream to dream,
especially if he's poor.
That's the thing
that catalogues
and pretty girls
are for.

words and music by Robert Lindsey Nassif

60th Anniversary Issue from 2012

SEE YOU IN TWO WEEKS FOR MY
Next Fortnightly Post
Tuesday, 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

Hopefully

Posting early this week
in honor of Emily Dickinson's Birthday
Born this day in 1830
[died May 15, 1886]

A HOUSE WHERE ALL'S ACCUSTOMED, CEREMONIOUS

Photo of Dickinson's House by Stan Lichens

"Eden is that old - fashioned House
We dwell in every day
Without suspecting our abode
Until we drive away.
How fair, on looking back, the Day
We sauntered from the door,
Unconscious our returning
Discover it no more."

~ Emily Dickinson ~

[See also: Toni Morrison ~ Paradise]

****************
Does it bring you joy to indulge in an innocent little English usage error every occasionally (like that)? It does me! One of my favorites is the word hopefully. The handbooks will advise you that it means "with hope," as in, "I dropped my bike off hopefully" or "Hopefully, I entered the contest."

It does not mean "I hope," as in, "Hopefully I will win" or "Hopefully my bike can be fixed" (not to mention get rid of that passive verb). Even so, I like using it both ways, either way, ambiguously, whenever I feel like. Hopefully, you will agree with me when I say that we all need all the hope we can get!

What are you hoping for? What are the desires of your heart?

Do you get what you're hoping for
When you look behind you there's no open door
What are you hoping for?
Do you know?
--song by M. Masser / G. Goffin;
--sung by Diana Ross (and a few others)
I once came across a little proverb, so easy to remember, I didn't even have to write it down: "Want something long enough and you don't." It took me awhile to puzzle out the meaning. Once it starts happening, however, you grow to understand. It's not that you actively give up wanting or deliberately relinquish the object of your desire; it's just that one day you realize, hey I don't want that anymore, and in fact haven't wanted it for quite some time.

It's not so bad to stop wanting things you can't have. But it's also good to hope for what you might have. And the wisdom to know the difference. As Emily Dickinson says in one of her best loved poems:

Hope is the thing with feathers
That perches in the soul,
And sings the tune without the words,
And never stops at all . . .
This stanza always reminds me of the Psalm: "Delight yourself in the Goodness of God and you will be given the Desires of Your Heart" (37:4). The trick, of course, is knowing what it is that you desire, what you're hoping for.

A few years ago in the Notre Dame Magazine, Elizabeth Austin told the story of a young friend who wanted to complete the last leg of an around-the-world journey. Asking his father's advice, he received this ambiguous reply: "I think it's a ridiculous idea . . . If it's just a whim forget about it. The only reason to do something like that is if it's your heart's desire. And if it's your heart's desire, then you have to do it."

The son was baffled: "What's that supposed to mean, my heart's desire?" Austin concludes her narrative with yet another conundrum: Discovering our heart's desire "must be, in the end, our heart's desire" (NDM, Winter 1997 - 98, p 79).

From some angles, Emily Dickinson's sequestered life appears so unruffled, but what about her heart's desire? What message did she discern when listening so carefully to that song without words, the one that never stopped?

Emily Dickinson
"We think of hidden in a white dress
among the folded linens and sachets
of well-kept cupboards, or just out of sight
sending jellies and notes with no address
to all the wondering Amherst neighbors.
Eccentric as New England weather
the stiff wind of her mind, stinging or gentle,
blew two half imagined lovers off.
Yet legend won't explain the sheer sanity
of vision, the serious mischief
of language, the economy of pain."

poem by Linda Pastan, (U.S. Poet, b. 1932)
In her poem, "Lists," Pastan says:

"I made a list of things I have
to remember and a list
of things I want to forget,
but I see they are the same list."
I wonder if it's ever the case that the same is also true of what we're hoping for?

Looking at it a different way, author Susan Jeffers recommends not a "Hoping Life" but a "Wondering Life": " . . . with the magic of wondering, fear of the uncertain is replaced by curiosity . . . pressure about the future is relieved when we live in a wondering world" (Embracing Uncertainty, 20 - 21).

E.g., not I HOPE you are reading my blog,
but I WONDER if you are reading my blog.

For more on Emily Dickinson, see
"Emily From Different Angles
on Kitti's Book List




Young Girl Reading
by French artist
Jean-Honoré Fragonard
1732 - 1806





SEE YOU IN TWO WEEKS FOR MY
Next Fortnightly Post
Saturday, December 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.blogspot.com