It's Old Man Winter's Favorite Season

Today is the first day of Winter and the shortest day - less than twelve hours of sunshine -  of the year in the Northern hemispere That event as well as the coot evening temperatures will be more than enough to awaken thoughts of sub-freezing temperatures, howling winds and depths of drifting snow measured in feet. 

In Henry Purcell's 1671 semi-opera, King Arthur, the spirit of Winter is depicted as Cold Genius, a frozen old man who much prefers dormancy under snowdrifts to an invitation to celebrate the coming of Spring.

What power art thou Who from below Hast made me rise Unwillingly and slow From beds of everlasting snow See'st thou not how stiff And wondrous old Far unfit to bear the bitter cold I can scarcely move Or draw my breath I can scarcely move Or draw my breath Let me, let me, Let me freeze again Let me, let me Freeze again to death Let me, let me, let me Freeze again to death...

Much of the nation won't have long to wait Cold Genius's favoite weather. Personally I don't look forward to cold temperatures, ice, assorted freezing slop, and black snow lining city streets for the next three months. On the other hand, the thought of lengthening days that arrived with today's solstice brings a big smile to my face. This rebirth of the sun has brought happiness to humans for quite a long time.

The Newgrange Tumulus in County Meath, Ireland, is a nice illustration of this long-standing respect for the rebirth of light and warmth to a culture. The burial mound has a passage that aligns perfectly with the winter solstice sunrise. People have observed the illumination of the keystone at Newgrange for over 4500 years. That's long before Stonehenge and the Giza pyramids existed.

The winter solstice is also know as Midwinter is some circles. Here is unquestionably the song of the day, In the Bleak Midwinter, a perfect blend of nature and the "coming of the light" in the celebration of the birth of Jesus.

In the bleak mid-winter

Frosty wind made moan,

Earth stood hard as iron,

Water like a stone;

Snow had fallen, snow on snow,

Snow on snow,

In the bleak mid-winter

Long ago.

Our God, Heaven cannot hold Him

Nor earth sustain;

Heaven and earth shall flee away

When He comes to reign:

In the bleak mid-winter

A stable-place sufficed

The Lord God Almighty,

Jesus Christ.

Enough for Him, whom cherubim

Worship night and day,

A breastful of milk,

And a mangerful of hay;

Enough for Him, whom angels

Fall down before,

The ox and ass and camel

Which adore.

Angels and archangels

May have gathered there,

Cherubim and seraphim

Thronged the air -

But only His mother

In her maiden bliss

Worshipped the Beloved

With a kiss.

What can I give Him,

Poor as I am?

If I were a shepherd

I would bring a lamb;

If I were a wise man

I would do my part;

Yet what I can, I give Him -

Give my heart.

For the next six months the sun will climb a bit higher every day in the Northern Hemisphere. We won't notice heat from the "rebirth" of the sun until a month or so into this cycle. While the lengthening days can give us hope that the "dead season" will soon come to an end, we can still enjoy the experience of a world at quiet rest.

Sources

Photos and Illustrations:

Newgrange aerial photo, gaia.com
Newgrange plan and section, public domain illustration, William Frederick Wakeman, Wakeman's Handbook of Irish Heritage (1903), archives.org

A Southern Preacher's Kid Observes His World

Erskine Caldwell (1903-1987) was an only child, a "PK," a preacher's kid. His family moved frequently throughout the South until he was fifteen when they settled in Wrens, Georgia. Still, his father often preached on large circuits, necessitating plenty of travel. In fact, the elder Caldwell traveled so regularly that his son could determine his destinations by the odor of coal smoke on his suit. In time, father took son on many of these journeys. The peculiarity, poverty, and injustice of the Depression era South was embedded in Erskine Caldwell's memory and he soon began writing about it. His observations had little to do with remnants of "the late unpleasantness" - the Civil War - that often gripped the region. Instead, Caldwell wrote of the raw realities of the human condition in the South. This, and his crusade for improving conditions, did not sit well with many Southerners. The dislike was enhanced because he was writing "in absentia," having left the South before 1930. Furthermore, his subject matter often placed him in conflict with censors across the country.

Caldwell had a long career as a writer of both fiction and non-fiction, but he is best known for Tobacco Road (1932), God's Little Acre (1933) and other works from the 1930's. An adaptation of Tobacco Road played on Broadway for eight years - a record at the time - beginning in 1933. A "sentimental burlesque" adaptation directed by John Ford in 1941 contributed to the stereotyping and ridicule of poor white Southerners. Caldwell greatly disliked the film. God's Little Acre remains one of the most popular novels in the U.S. with over ten million copies in print. A 1958 film version is considered the best presentation of Caldwell themes on film.


Here are the opening scenes from Tobacco Road (1941) and the theatrical trailer from God's Little Acre (1958):

Caldwell, who was born on this day in 1903, is an interesting blend of 20th century authors. He is Sherwood Anderson, William Faulkner, D.H. Lawrence, Christopher Isherwood, Joseph Mitchell, and a reflection of other modernists. Readers who seek more than discourse on the happy veneer of the human condition will enjoy Caldwell's interpretations. A good place to start is Deep South: Memory and Observation, a collection of travel essays written in 1968.

Read more about him in this entry from the New Georgia Encyclopedia. The volume is also the source of a quotation and other information in this post.

A Dream Beyond Time Comes True

On this day in 1903 at Kitty Hawk on the outer banks of North Carolina, the 27-mph wind was harder than they would have liked since their predicted cruising speed was only 30-35 mph. The headwind would slow their ground speed to a crawl but they proceeded anyway. With a sheet they signaled the volunteers from the nearby lifesaving station that they were about to try again.

Now it was Orville's turn. Remembering Wilbur's experience, he positioned himself and tested the controls. The stick that moved the horizontal elevator controlled climb and descent. The cradle that he swung with his hips warped the wings and swung the vertical tails, which in combination turned the machine. A lever controlled the gas flow and airspeed recorder. The controls were simple and few, but Orville knew it would take all his finesse to handle the new and heavier aircraft. At 10:35, he released the restraining wire. The flyer moved down the rail as Wilbur steadied the wings. Just as Orville left the ground, John Daniels from the lifesaving station snapped the shutter on a preset camera, capturing the historic image of the airborne aircraft with Wilbur running alongside.

The Wright Flyer begins its first successful flight, December 17, 1903

Again, the flyer was unruly, pitching up and down as Orville overcompensated with the controls. But he kept it aloft until it hit the sand about 120 feet from the rail. Into the 27-mph wind, the ground speed had been 6.8 mph, for a total airspeed of 34 mph. The brothers took turns flying three more times that day, getting a feel for the controls and increasing their distance with each flight. Wilbur's second flight - the fourth and last of the day – was an impressive 852 feet in 59 seconds.

This was the real thing, transcending the powered hops and glides others had achieved. After four years of research and development the Wright machine had flown.

Monuments spanning the 120 feet of the first flight

On completing the flight the brothers walked four miles to Kitty Hawk and sent their father a telegram:

Success four flights Thursday morning all against twenty one mile wind started from level with engine power alone average speed through air thirty one miles longest 57 seconds inform Press home Christmas

Their pilot-controlled, sustained and powered flight by a heavier-than-air machine would soon change the world.

For comprehensive information on this historic event visit the National Park Service's Wright Brothers National Memorial web page.


Credits:

1903 photograph, unrestored version: Library of Congress
Monuments photo; text: National Park Service, Wright Brothers National Memorial

The Third Sunday In Advent 2024: A Time For Rejoicing

Madonna in the Rose Garden Stefan Lochner, ca 1448

Prepare the way by proclaiming good news. The early church gave the title "Gaudete" to the third Sunday in Advent. The word simply means, "Rejoice!" When you are joyful about something, you share that good news. Think of the custom of the family Christmas letter. Many families will send out letters during these holidays, summarizing the joyful family news of the past year: the birth of a grandchild, a new job, etc. If such joyful events are considered worthy of sharing, how much more the goo news that the Son of God came into our world to save us from sins! Moreover, he is coming again to take believers to an eternity of glory. That is good news believers need to hear again and again. It is a message that we with joyful faith yearn to share with a world that is in desperate need of some good news.

The joyful nature of this Sunday is illustrated by the lone, rose-colored candle on the Advent wreath. It hints of the joyful birth that we are soon to celebrate.

For the seekers of antiquity among our readers here is the chanted Introit - with translation below - from which this Sunday gets it name:

 

Rejoice in the Lord always; again I say, rejoice. Let your forbearance be known to all, for the Lord is near at hand; have no anxiety about anything, but in all things, by prayer and supplication, with thanksgiving, let your requests be known to God. Lord, you have blessed your land; you have turned away the captivity of Jacob.

                            Phillipians, 4:4-6: Psalm 85(84):1


May your day be filled with rejoicing!




Sources


Text:
The opening quotation appeared in the 2013 Gaudete Sunday Bulletin, Abiding Grace Lutheran Church, Covington, Georgia..

Joel Chandler Harris: When Uncle Remus Told His Tales

Today is the birthday (1845) of the beloved Georgia journalist and writer, Joel Chandler Harris. He was born in Eatonton and raised by his single mother and other benefactors to love reading, writing, and humor. At sixteen he was employed at the nearby Turnwold Plantation as a print setter for what was likely the nation's only plantation newspaper, The Countryman. Under the guidance of owner Joseph Addison Turner, Harris read from the plantation's large library over the a period of four years. He also observed life on the plantation including its rich culture of oral traditions among the slaves.

After a decade of employment with several papers in central Georgia and Savannah, Harris joined the staff of the Atlanta Constitution in 1876. It was here that he linked a Lippincott's article on black folklore to his Turnwold Plantation experience and the Uncle Remus character he had created for his feature writing. The rest was history, described here in R. Bruce Bickley's Georgia Encyclopedia article on Harris:

For the next quarter-century, Harris lived a double life professionally. He was one of two associate editors of the premier newspaper in the Southeast, helping readers interpret the complex New South movement. He was also the creative writer, the "other fellow," as he termed himself: a prolific, committed, and ambitious re-creator of folk stories, a literary comedian, fiction writer, and author of children's books. Harris published thirty-five books in his lifetime, in addition to writing thousands of articles for the Constitution over a twenty-four-year period. Along with his first book, Uncle Remus: His Songs and His Sayings, the most ambitious of the Uncle Remus volumes is Nights with Uncle Remus: Myths and Legends of the Old Plantation (1883). This book comprises seventy-one tales that feature stories told by four different black narrators, including Uncle Remus.                                                  

Harris also left his impact on major literary figures to come. Rudyard Kipling, Zora Neale Hurston, William Faulkner, Flannery O'Connor, Ralph Ellison, and Toni Morrison all responded to the legacy of Brer Rabbit and the tar baby that Harris had helped popularize. Fellow Eatonton writer Alice Walker protested, however, that Harris had stolen her African American folklore heritage and had made it a white man's publishing commodity.

Harris died on July 3, 1908, of acute nephritis and was buried in Westview Cemetery, West End, Atlanta. Obituary writers were not exaggerating when they eulogized this celebrated middle Georgia writer as "the most beloved man in America." Only Harris's friend and admirer, Mark Twain, who died two years later, surpassed Harris in popular reputation at the beginning of the twentieth century. Harris's retelling of the story of Brer Rabbit and the tar baby remains one of the world's best-known folktales, and his complex legacy as a literary comedian, New South journalist, folklorist, fiction writer, and children's author continues to influence modern culture in a surprising number of ways.

As noted in the quotation, Harris's place in the history of folklore is not without its controversy. Historically there has always been a struggle in the sphere of anthropological studies with cultural preservation and destruction as well as ownership. In Harris we have a written legacy from black oral tradition as viewed though the author's personal lens. It isn't perfect but it does preserve universal themes and lessons in their cultural context. Furthermore his work in part inspired a resurgence of interest in storytelling and performance in a number of cultural niches. If anything that interest is far stronger today than it was a century ago and much of it under black ownership. I can certainly encourage and appreciate that as well as Harris's contribution. I also trust that the magic of storytelling will remain a rich tradition in the American experience and beyond.


Sources

Text:
R. Bruce Bickley, Joel Chandler Harris, Georgia Encyclopedia, georgiaencyclopedia,org

National Pearl Harbor Remembrance Day 2024

Today marks the 83rd anniversary of the Imperial Japanese Navy's attack on the U.S. Navy's base at Pearl Harbor, Hawaii.

Below is Pearl Harbor as it appeared on October 30, 1941.

Below is a photo taken by a Japanese pilot 38 days later on December 7 during the torpedo attack on Battleship Row visible on the far side of Ford Island.

There were almost 4000 casualties that day including 2400 dead.

The attack led to a war effort that included 16,000,000 American men and women in uniform. The Department of Veterans Affairs reports that around 66,000 of these veterans survive. Soon, the relics, memorials and ceremony will be all that is left to testify to America's greatest generation at war. If we are to survive, we need to remember them now and in the future for what they did to crush evil in the world.

USS Arizona Memorial, Pearl Harbor, Hawaii, 2004


Today the youngest of the sixteen surviving veteran of Pearl Harbor would be 100 years old. Many of them can no longer travel and according to officials only two will attend the ceremony along with perhaps thirty World War II veterans.

Did You Survive The Night Of The Krampus?

Some kids - few I'd guess - still hear about receiving a lump of coal in their Christmas stocking as reward for a year of bad behavior. So much for gifts as a sign of grace at Christmastide. On the other hand given the state of behavior of too many children indictrinated with the Marxist concept of class struggle and its extension of diversity, equity, and inclusion could mean we are a bit overdue acknowledging the idea that "everyone gets a trophy" really means "no one gets a trophy." Perhaps it's time to restore some form of reward - punishment if you will - for the erosion of good conduct.

We don't have to create something new for this plan. Some years ago I stumbled on an Old World solution that's been around for centuries in many central and eastern European cultures. To boot, the solution to bad behavior has been associated with the most benevolent and generous of figures, Sinterklaas, or as we know him today, Saint Nicholas or Santa.

That's right, for a thousand years in much of Europe, Santa Claus hasn't always been the only one coming to town! 

So who or what is the other half of the holiday team? His name is Krampus. Unfortunately, he is extreme to the point of terrifying for children. In fact, an unexpected visit from this visage in the dead of night would insure obedience from most rational adults. And the night of December 5, the Night of the Krampus, is devoted to his visit.

St. Nicholas and Krampus, Arnold Nechansky, Wiener Werkstatte, 1912

I first discovered Krampus through an interest in post cards. When I began looking at cards from central Europe, especially those printed by the magnificent Wiener Werkstatte in the early decades of the 20th century, I noticed that two figures often appeared on the Christmas cards depicting a visit to a welcoming family. One was a traditional Saint Nicholas character dressed in ornate flowing robes and carrying a bag of gifts. The other was a shabbily dressed rather grotesque if not devil-like creature carrying a bundle of switches and a bag. The intention of the visit was to leave a nice gift for the good children or a lump of coal for the "behaviorally challenged." While good children enjoyed their presents moderately bad boys and girls could expect a swat or two from the switches. The worst cases went into the bag and carried off to who knows where or what.

Do understand I'm not advocating whipping, kidnapping, and cooking as a corrective for youth beyond the bounds of civilized coexistence. Rather, I'd just like a little balance for all the feet jabbed into my Economy Class back between Atlanta and anywhere, the screaming tantrums endured at finer restaurants, and the toxic aerosol clouds projected my way by sneezing toddlers. Yes, it is time to modernize the deliveryman and bring on the coal acknowledging of course that the traditional Krampus needs plenty of modification to work as a present day disciplinarian.

As I mentioned earlier, last night - the eve of Saint Nicholas Day - is the Night of the Krampus. Although this night for European adults has taken on an almost Halloween-like character often fueled by alcohol, it remains a fascinating, ancient story of the dichotomous nature of our existence. Those who understand that good does not stand without evil, just as there are no mountains without valleys, can learn more about the Krampus tradition here.

In closing, here is a glimpse of a traditional visit from Weinachtsmann and Krampus in Breitenberg, Pfronten, Germany, not far from the borders with Czechia and Austria. It's very likely that similar visits have occurred in this and other valleys across the continent for a thousand years. The interpretations may evolve over time but the message remains the same. Good boys and girls get fine rewards, others not so much.

Hope you've been good this year. Any childen missing from your neighborhood this morning?




Sources

Photos and Illustrations:
https://www.theviennasecession.com/a-history/

Text:
http://mentalfloss.com/article/71999/9-facts-about-krampus-st-nicks-demonic-companion

Celebrating Repeal Day: Acknowledging The Failure Of Legislating Morality

From 1920 to 1925, he worked for members of Congress out of an office in the Cannon House Office Building until he was arrested. After a brief hiatus, he returned to serving his loyal customers from 1925 to 1930 only this time he worked from the Russell Senate Office Building. His name was George Cassiday. He was known as "the man in the green hat" and his business was supplying members of Congress with booze during Prohibition. I'd like to say this "booze for me but not for thee" hypocrisy was unacceptible, but tens of milions of Americans also had no issue with ignoring such risible law making. It was after all the decade known as the Roaring Twenties when just about everyone enjoyed the American experience.  

Reason TV has a brief article and five-minute history about Mr. Cassiday and his most interesting job. I'm left to conclude that the period 1920-30 had to be one of the happiest decades in history for our esteemed statesmen on Capital Hill.

And why are we discussing this story today? Today is Repeal Day, celebrating the 91st anniversary of the passage of the Twenty-first Amendement to the United States Constitution and the end of Prohibition. Our thirteen-year (1920-1933) attempt to end alcohol consumption in the United States was a disaster at every level and an object lesson in the futility of legislating morality. 

H.L. Mencken (r) celebrates the end of Prohibition, Rennert Hotel, Baltimore

And it so happens that one of my favorite musical compositions, Carmina Burana, addresses the pervasive nature of alcohol in western civilization. Those unfamiliar with the piece will enjoy the translation below the link. It's a wonderful lesson from the 10th to 13th centuries illustrating why the control of alcohol consumption is a rather frustrating endeavor. This is a fine performance conducted by the composer. I suggest you pour your favorite beverage, find your best earphones and comfortable chair and enjoy the meaning of the day, in moderation, of course. 

Carmina Burana 

Carl Orff, 1935-36

II. In the Tavern
Part 14: When we are in the tavern


When we are in the tavern,
we do not think how we will go to dust,
but we hurry to gamble,
which always makes us sweat.
What happens in the tavern,
where money is host,
you may well ask,
and hear what I say.
Some gamble, some drink,
some behave loosely.
But of those who gamble,
some are stripped bare,
some win their clothes here,
some are dressed in sacks.
Here no-one fears death,
but they throw the dice in the name of Bacchus.
First of all is to the wine-merchant
the libertines drink,
one for the prisoners,
three for the living,
four for all Christians,
five to faithful dead,
six for the loose sisters,
seven for the footpads in the wood,
Eight for the errant brethren,
nine for the dispersed monks,
ten for the seamen,
eleven for the squabblers,
twelve for the penitent,
thirteen for the wayfarers.
To the Pope as to the king
they all drink without restraint.
the mistress drinks, the master drinks
the soldier drinks, the priest drinks,
the man drinks, the woman drinks,
the servant drinks with the maid,
the swift man drinks, the lazy man drinks,
the settled man drinks, the wanderer drinks,
the stupid man drinks, the wise man drinks,
The poor man drinks, the sick man drinks,
the exile drinks, and the stranger,
the boy drinks, the old man drinks,
the bishop drinks, and the deacon,
the sister drinks, the brother drinks,
the old lady drinks, the mother drinks,
this man drinks, that man drinks,
a hundred drink, a thousand drink.
Six hundred pennies would hardly
if everyone drinks
immoderately and immeasurably.
However much they cheerfully drink
we are the ones whom everyone scolds,
and thus we are destitute.
May those who slander us be cursed,
and may their names not be written in the book of the righteous.


You can enjoy the Latin poem and this English version together at the You Tube link.

Cheers!

A Mother's Birthday

Last year on the anniversary of my mother's birth, I opened the post with a paragraph saying that her family's deep lineage in the western Virginia mountains had been lost to history. Thanks to a cousin's genealogical research I can report this year on her 110th birthday that much of her family history is no longer lost. Her paternal ancestory in the New World began 1628 in the Plymouth Colony. From there the family line moved to Harford County, Maryland, by 1700, followed by Tidewater Virginia during mid-century, and the Virginia frontier (now West Virginia) around 1800. 

Her parents married a century later and raised seven children on their family farm on the eastern edge of the Allegheny Front a few miles from the Potomac River. One weekend in 1931 she and her four sisters went to skate and dance at the local lodge armory. It was a common practice among families, but especially attractive among young people as a way to have fun with old friends and make new ones as well. She struck up a conversation with the young lodge member who was selling tickets. That conversation grew into a two-year courtship that ended in marriage in 1933. Their conversation continued for more than forty years.  

On the farm in 1932

 

With my birth she became a full time mother and homemaker, but still found time to enjoy her church family, reading, gardening, nature, frequent visits with her large family, and vacations on Pattersons Creek in Burlington, West Virginia. She was taken from this world far too early after a long illness. There's no question that I miss her and I'm sorry she did not live to enjoy her daughter-in-law and three grandchildren. Still, I feel her goodness has been with us helping to shape our family over the years. Wouldn't have it any other way. She was a great mom, full of faith, love, compassion, a wonderful sense of humor, and dedication to family and friends.


Happy birthday, Mom! See you later.

Advent 2024

The word, "advent," comes from the Latin "adventus," meaning "arrival." Today in the western Christian tradition there are two arrivals on the fourth Sunday before Christmas, that of a new church year as well as its first season, Advent. The journey through the season anticipates both the birth of Jesus Christ as the Light of the World, his presence among believers today, and his return at the Last Judgement.

As we enter into the season of Advent today and that of Christmastide beginning December 24 it is time once more to explore almost two thousand years of words, music, and visual arts created for this holy time.

The Descent of Peace                                      William Blake

I give you the end of a gold string.

Only wind it in a ball,

It will lead you to Heaven's gate

built in Jerusalem's wall.

                                        from William Blake's poem, Jerusalem

Today's music is Conditor Alme Siderum (Creator of the Stars of Night), a plainsong dating from the 7th century.

Here is some background on the hymn including its original text and an English translation. For a more detailed exploration of the hymn and its many variations over the past 1500 years, go here.

Winston Churchill: Born On This Day 150 Years Ago

Today is 150th anniversary of the birth of the great British statesman, Winston Churchill. The 19th century American literary icon, Ralph Waldo Emerson, said "there is properly no history, only biography." You'll get some argument about that statement these days. On the other hand, in the last century and a half there is Churchill. I think we would be hard-pressed to find a better illustration of history as biography in that time frame.

Churchill with his son and grandson in 1953

From his Wikipedia entry:

Sir Winston Leonard Spencer-Churchill KG OM CH TD DLFRS RA (30 November 1874 – 24 January 1965) was a British statesman who was the Prime Minister of the United Kingdom from 1940 to 1945 and again from 1951 to 1955. Churchill was also an officer in the British Army, a historian, a superb writer (as Winston S. Churchill), and an artist. He won the Nobel Prize in Literature, and was the first person to be made an honorary citizen of the United States.

The Lion at 10 Downing Street in London, 1940

Churchill in 1895

For more on information on Winston Churchill go here. And, thanks to Steven Hayward at Powerline, here is a teachable moment from the renowned political philosopher, Leo Strauss, on hearing of Churchill's death in 1965. In addition, we cannot forget Churchill as a historian. He was both an extraordinary observer and compelling writer. New readers should start their journey with My Early Life: A Roving Commission, first published in 1930. I have a feeling it will not be their last volume by Churchill.

Churchill was a master of the English language but even he struggled for the right words to both describe the reality his countrymen faced at the hands of Luftwaffe bombers during the the Blitz of 1940 and 1941 as well as rally them to endure what he knew would be their darkest hour:

The whole fury and might of the enemy must very soon be turned on us. Hitler knows that he will have to break us in this island or lose the war. If we can stand up to him, all Europe may be freed and the life of the world may move forward into broad, sunlit uplands. But if we fail, then the whole world, including the United States, including all that we have known and cared for, will sink into the abyss of a new dark age made more sinister, and perhaps more protracted, by the lights of perverted science. Let us therefore brace ourselves to our duties, and so bear ourselves, that if the British Empire and its Commonwealth last for a thousand years, men will still say, This was their finest hour.

For seventy years, he served the people of Great Britain and the colonies from the role of soldier to that of statesman. Aside from the monarchy, especially the reign of Elizabeth II, there is arguably no other indivudual in the modern era who personifies England and its people more than Winston Churchill.

Sources


Photos and Illustrations:
public domain photos, Imperial War Museums

St. Andrew's Day 2024

It's a brilliant, calm, and unusually cold St. Andrew's Day here in the rolling hills of east metro Atlanta. I was very pleased to unfurl the St. Andrew's Cross - the flag of Scotland - at our home to honor both the country and it's patron saint.

There's no feasting or dancing for me today. On the other hand I can enjoy thinking of the many years my wife and I attended the Clan Robertson and Clan Donnachaidh ceilidh. The event followed the closing day of the Stone Mountain Highland Games held annually in mid-October. Our gathering lasted deep into the evening and always featured a top shelf Scotch whisky tasting, plenty of dancing and singing, a few pipers pipping, harps and fiddles, and tables groaning with food, including the occasional haggis which often left a few guests groaning as well. At its height well over 100 guests attended, many of them from the farthest reaches of the Scottish diaspora.

It has been several years since I last attended the games and an afterparty. Much has changed over that time as the main event approaches its 53rd year. For one, the famous tattoo that attracted pipe bands from across the globe fell victim to high costs and the loss of its venue. In addition the organization continues to change its programming to build and sustain interest in Scottish history and ancestry among younger people who will determine its future. As for me I'm quite content to let the St. Andrew's banner grace the entrance to the house and dream about renewed friendships, great music, and those wonderful Scotch eggs I enjoyed on so many Sunday evenings in Stone Mountain.

Wishing you and yours a happy St. Andrew's Day!

C. S. Lewis: Aim At Heaven And You Will Get Earth Thrown In. Aim At Earth And You Get Neither

 

Some day you will be old enough to read fairy tales

                                                                            C.S. Lewis

I was introduced to the mind of C. S. (Clive Staples) Lewis through a gift from a close friend. He gave me a copy of The Four Loves as medication for some conflicting developments in a relationship with Marti, the girl of my dreams at the time. Eventually, Marti revealed her affection for a professor at UNC Chapel Hill. She moved on and I was left with a life-long literary relationship with Lewis and can only trust that Marti found equal tenure with the prof.

C.S. Lewis, one of the last century's leading scholars, novelists, and Christian apologists, was born on this day in 1898. Many readers likely know his name and even more know some of his work - The Screwtape Letters, The Chronicles of Narnia, The Space Trilogy, Mere Christianity, Surprised By Joy - but many may not be familiar with the depth and breadth of his literary accomplishments.

C.S. Lewis                                National Portrait Gallery, London

Immersed the the world of the university scholar where he was a friend and colleague of J. R.R. Tolkein, Lewis enjoyed the community but also appreciated his privacy. For that reason, very few interviews and recordings of the man survive. One tape still with us is a fifteen-minute talk he gave over BBC Radio during a three part series of presentations between 1942 and 1944. The recording reveals the great warmth, friendliness, and integrity of the man.

The talks soon appeared as three separate books shortly after World War II. In 1952, the series was edited into a single book, Mere Christianity. It's now considered a masterpiece in Christian apologetics.

If you cannot enjoy a Lewis book you simply haven't read enough of his work. And there is enough to accommodate readers as his Wikipedia bibliography has almost eighty entries of poetry, fiction, and non-fiction. One or more of those entries will speak to you for a long time.

A Genius Behind The Music

For jazz, pop and Great American Songbook enthusiasts today marks another important birthday, that of Billy Strayhorn in 1915. He was the genius songwriter and arranger behind many of Duke Ellington's hits including, Take the A Train, Chelsea Bridge, My Little Brown Book, Day Dream, Something to Live For, and Lotus Blossom. I have written about Strayhorn in a few posts over the years but never devoted one to him until I found Scott Johnson's Power Line tribute, Lush Life, from 2013. Do check it out and make a note of his mention of Terry Teachout's biography of Duke Ellington, a study that explores the Ellington-Strayhorn musical partnership at length.

Here's an added treat for some context: the Ellington-Fitzgerald version of Lush Life that Johnson references is again available on You Tube.

That song has a remarkable number of fine interpretations. He makes mention of my favorite version. And thanks to You Tube, readers can listen to the Johnny Hartman-John Coltrane offering and make their own decision.

To me, it's the best. Given Strayhorn's remarkable tapestry of words and music, Hartman is superb here. No equal. Add Coltrane and we have even greater music history in that it is the only recording he made with a vocalist.


Unfortunately, Strayhorn never emerged from Ellington's shadow to enjoy the limelight. His full contribution to the world of music emerged only after his death in 1967, the publication of Ellington's autobiography in 1973, and further research on their collaboration.

William Blake: Visions From The Heart

To see a world in a grain of sand

And heaven in a wild flower

Hold infinity in the palm of your hand

And eternity in an hour

                                William Blake

                                from Auguries of Innocence (1803)
                                               

On November 28, 1757, the British artist and writer, William Blake, was born in London. Even after several decades of studying his life and work he continues to make me dream and, for that reason, he remains my favorite anarchist. 

In his own time he was so eccentric his neighbors and friends thought he was a madman. As an engraver and illustrator he was caught between the decline of the guilds and the rise of industrialization. It was a time when men saw the value of their labors swept away from the cottage and into the factory under the watchful eye of the manager. For workers, the loss of autonomy, the shift in control and production, and the helplessness in the face of change led to a revolt against the Age of Reason and a rage against technologies it spawned. Blake was in the forefront of that movement but it would take almost two centuries before he would be recognized as both one whose vision, imagination and sensitivity were unmatched in the age of Romanticism and a truly unique influence in the history of the Western world.

There is one certainty about Blake's work and that is its complexity. He is by far one of the most interesting visionaries to come out of the West and its traditions. I hope you will take time to examine him and his extraordinary contributions to our experience. To explore his work appropriately is beyond the intent of this blog and capability of its author. For readers who want to learn more about Blake, to me there's no finer work available than Jacob Bronowski's A Man Without A Mask, published in 1944, and it's expanded version, William Blake and the Age of Revolution, published in 1972.

William Blake             Thomas Phillips, English, 1807

I have learned much from Blake the artist and philosopher in an effort to find a healthy balance between intellect and emotion. It's been a beautiful, productive, and fascinating journey. These works have been a part of that experience:

In the following illustration, The Ancient of Days, Blake depicts his character, Urizen, [You rising] as reason shaping the world and its experience. This engraving is also interpreted as God the Father - and often God the Son - as divining existence. It is a prime example of the complex and often confounding world of Blake's imagination.

The Ancient of Days                                   William Blake, 1793

In the following engraving Blake depicts Isaac Newton [and the Age of Reason] at the bottom of the sea shaping - the dividers, once more - the world of humankind on the earth. Newton, as a symbol of the Age of Reason and its invention and industrialization, has turned his back on the organic beauty of God's natural world.

Newton                                                    William Blake, 1795

Here, the Angel of Peace descends forcibly out of heaven illustrating God's reason -the dividers - brought into the world in the form of his Son to reconcile Nature (the recline female nude) and a redeemed humanity.

The Descent of Peace                          William Blake, ca. 1815

One of Blake's most familiar pieces is his preface to Milton: A Poem in Two Books. The preface says much about Blake's philosophy opposing the Age of Reason as mbodied in Greek and Roman thought and the dangers a reliance on intellect can bring to a world based equally on emotion. Furthermore, the preface is a perfect illustration of Blake's religious mysticism as well as his veneration of Milton.

The stolen and perverted writings of Homer and Ovid, of Plato and Cicero, which all men ought to contemn, are set up by artifice against the Sublime of the Bible; but when the New Age is at leisure to pronounce, all will be set right, and those grand works of the more ancient, and consciously and professedly Inspired men will hold their proper rank, and the Daughters of Memory shall become the Daughters of Inspiration, Shakspeare and Milton were curb'd by the general malady and infection from the silly Greek and Latin slaves of the sword. Rouse up, O Young Men of the New Age! Set your foreheads against the ignorant hirelings! For we have hirelings in the camp, the Court, and the University, who would, if they could, for ever depress mental, and prolong corporeal war. Painters! on you I call. Sculptors! Architects! suffer not the fashionable fools to depress your powers by the prices they pretend to give for contemptible works, or the expensive advertising boasts that they make of such works; believe Christ and His Apostles that there is a class of men whose whole delight is in destroying. We do not want either Greek or Roman models if we are but just and true to our own Imaginations, those Worlds of Eternity in which we shall live for ever, in Jesus our Lord.

And did those feet in ancient time

Walk upon England's mountains green?

And was the holy lamb of God

On England's pleasant pastures seen?

And did the Countenance Divine

Shine forth upon our clouded hills?

And was Jerusalem builded here

Among these dark Satanic mills.

Bring me my bow of burning gold!

Bring me my arrows of desire!

Bring me my spear! O clouds, unfold!

Bring me my chariot of fire!

I will not cease from mental fight,

Nor shall my sword sleep in my hand,

Till we have built Jerusalem

In England's green and pleasant land.

Would to God that all the Lord's people were Prophets. Numbers xi, ch. 26



Readers may be more familiar with Blake's poem through this medium:

As this tribute comes to a close, I'd like to reference one of Blake's poems that virtually all children read before the end of their middle schools years a half century ago. It's remarkably simple in form yet its questions brim with imagination and wonder. I so hope that The Tyger is still read and heard by young students so they can remember its message over their varied lifetimes.

Tyger, Tyger, burning bright,

In the forests of the night:

What immortal hand or eye,

Could frame thy fearful symmetry?

In what distant deeps or skies,

Burnt the fire in thine eyes?

On what wings dare he aspire?

What the hand, dare seize the fire?

And what shoulder & what art,

Could twist the sinews of thy heart?

And when thy heart began to beat,

What dread hand? & what dread feet?

What the hammer? What the chain,

In what furnace was thy brain?

What the anvil? what dread grasp.

Dare its deadly terrors clasp?

When the stars threw down their spears

And water'd heaven with their tears:

Did he smile his work to see?

Did he who made the Lamb make thee?

Tyger, Tyger burning bright,

In the forests of the night:

What immortal hand or eye,

Could frame thy fearful symmetry?

William Blake                              John Linnell, English, 1863

He who binds himself to a joy

Doth the winged life destroy

But he who kisses the joy as it flies

Lives in Eternity's sunrise

                                William Blake

                                from Eternity, 1803



Sources

Photos and Illustrations:
wikipedia.com
Blake portrait, National Portrait Gallery, Washington, D.C.
Newton, Tate Gallery, London, U.K.blakearchive.org/Blake

Text:
wikipedia.com, Blake entry
blakearchive.org/Blake
bartleby.com/235/284.html
Jacob Bronowski, A Man Without A Mask, Seeker and Warburg, London, 1944

Thanksgiving Countdown 2024, Day 1: Final Prep And All's In Place

Happy Thanksgiving

2024

Here is a prayer for thanksgiving by Martin Luther...

God, the Father Almighty, maker of heaven and earth, You looked upon all that You created and declared it good. Grant that we, this day, might regard Your creation with the same esteem and appreciation, seeing You at work in every daily operation. Help us to give thanks as we recognize Your loving work in all abundant blessings. Most of all, let us see not only Your creation, but also its redemption, through Jesus Christ. Amen

...and a song of thanksgiving arranged by John Rutter...

Eternal God, we give you thanks for music, Blest gift from heaven to all your servants here on earth: In time of joy a crown, in sorrow consolation; Companion through our days of tears and mirth.

We give you thanks for every sound of beauty: For sweetest harmony that echoes in our hearts, For melodies that soar on high like birds at morning, For voice and instrument in all their parts.

As we are blest, so may our gift bless others: May hearts be touched and spirits lifted up anew. Let music draw together those who live as strangers, Bring joy to those we love, in thankfulness true.

And when at last we come into your kingdom, All discord over and all earthly labour done, Then sound and silence yield before one equal music, And with the Giver shall our souls be one.