I was born in Maryland and spent my first thirty years living there, first in the Appalachian Mountains, then on the Eastern Shore, and later in suburban Washington. After a year in South Carolina, I moved to Georgia in 1977. I soon met another park ranger who worked in Florida. She was a wonderful woman who became my best friend. then my wife, and soon the mother of our three children. I spent over eleven years working in the historic city of Savannah, Georgia, and on the moss-draped sea islands nearby before moving to Atlanta.. In 2007, I retired from the National Park Service and a career dedicated to preserving and interpreting resources and themes in the cultural and natural history of the United States. It was a most rewarding experience. Today, I enjoy living in the rolling hills and woods of the Appalachian Piedmont east of Atlanta.
Today is a national holiday observing the birth of the American civil rights leader, Martin Luther King, Jr. His story is well-known but as it slips further into the past we are less likely to recall the deeper and personal impact he had on American culture in his time. Much of that impact lives on in King's words written and spoken eloquently from the mind as well as the heart. In his Powerline post first published on this day in 2005,Scott Johnson captured King's essence so wellwith his comments inserted between the paragraphs of King's "Letter from Birmingham Jail" and the speech he delivered in Memphis the day before his assassination.
MLK at a press conference in 1964
Here are more words and images ofKing at his national memorialon the west shore of the Tidal Basin in Washington, D.C.
hotos and Illustrations: News conference photo; Library of Congress All others from National Park Service, Martin Luther King, Jr. Memorial webpage
Today is the twelfth and final day of Christmastide or the Twelve Days of Christmas. This day is important among Christians who maintain liturgical traditions: first, it marks the end of a 1500 year-old festival celebrating the birth of Christ, and second, it is the eve ofEpiphany. It is also the beginning of the carnival season ending with Mardi Gras and the beginning of Lent. Those who are reluctant to bid Christmas farewell can take heart knowing that some traditions of Christmastide extend through February 2 or Candlemas, the Feast of the Presentation of Jesus at the Temple. Candlemas occurs on the 40th day of and the end of the liturgical Christmas-Epiphany season. In my home I'll be removing decorations day by day until February 2 when our simple manger scene stands alone in the library awaiting Christmas future.
For some the Twelve Days of Christmas will end with elaborate costumes, masks, feasting, music, dancing, and theater at Twelfth Night festivities where misrule is the only rule. They are indeed topsy-turvy events. Only the Surveyor of Ceremonies will appear without a mask. He will direct the company through a series of games and other activities beginning with the distribution of the Twelfth Cakes. When all the party goers have arrived, each will select a small festival cake or cake slice. Three of those cakes contain a hidden bean or token designating them as the king cake, queen cake and fool cake. The lucky holders of the royal cakes oversee the evening's activities before returning to their normal lives, most likely "below the salt."
Twelfth Night (The King Drinks) David Teniers, ca 1634
These Twelfth Night traditions have been part of western culture for over a thousand years. Some traditions carry over the night into Epiphany, January 6. This is the case in New Orleans where Twelfth Night parties have been popular for centuries due in part to their role as opening events of the Carnival season.
Twelfth Night festivities in New Orleans in 1884
We trust that you have experienced a wonder-filled Christmas. May you live throughout this new year in the spirit of Twelfth Night, finding joy and happiness in what often seems a disordered world. In the words of William Shakespeare, who had a bit to say about this evening in Twelfth Night, (Act II, Scene 5):
Be not afraid of greatness: some are born great, some achieve greatness, and some have greatness thrust upon them. Great or common - What you will!
And speaking of greatness here is music for the season, Johann Sebastian Bach's Magnificat in D Major. The composition was originally written in Leipzig for Christmas 1723 and contained four seasonal hymns. In 1730 the composer revised the work by dropping the four seasonal hymns and changing the key to D Major. The second version is the one most often head today. An English translation in parallel format is available here. This 2000 performance is by the Arnold Shoenberg Choir and the pioneer period instrument ensemble, Concentus Musicus Vienna. Conductor Nikolaus Harnoncourt and his wife founded the ensemble in 1953.
Hope you're enjoying a serving of Chatham Artillery Punch tonight.
Welcome to the seventh day of Christmas 2024, the last day of the year. That means it's also New Year's Eve. We bookend our post tonight with two fine examples of the work of the superb illustrators and graphic artists who were part of the Wiener Werkstatte, a Vienna Succession movement in the early 20th century in Europe.
In much of Christian Europe this day is also known as Silvester or the Feast of Sylvester. Some of the more interesting iterations of celebrating the arrival of the new year occur in the Celtic nations of Wales and Scotland. In Wales "New Year's Eve" translates to "Nos Galan," a day to pay off all debts, visit from house to house (first-footing) to sing carols, exchange gifts, drink a refreshing beverage or two, and enjoy mincemeat pie and rice pudding. The great musical tradition of Wales has provided us with the melody for the most appropriate carol for the day, Deck the Halls. A wide variety of lyrics emerged over the last three centuries. The video below provides one example and a partial translation. The video concludes with the more familiar Deck the Halls lyrics written in 1862.
Cold is the man who can't love,
Fa la la la la, la la la la,
The old mountains of dear Wales,
Fa la la la la, la la la la,
To him and his warmest friend,
Fa la la, la la la, la la la,
A cheerful holiday next year,
Fa la la la la, la la la la.
Cold is the snow on Mount Snowdon,
Fa la la la la, la la la la,
Even though it has a flannel blanket on it,
Fa la la la la, la la la la,
Cold are the people who don't care,
Fa la la, la la la, la la la,
To meet together on New Year's Eve,
Fa la la la la, la la la la.
The day is known as Hogmanay in Scotland. It's a nice blend of old and new elements including fireworks, bonfires, torchlight processions, partying, and the driving out of trolls. The many features of Hogmanay will be repeated throughout this day as the new year sweeps across the face of the planet. Virtually all the these activities will involve the gathering of family and friends. Whether they celebrate among millions or simply with immediate family there will come a time to end the celebration and look forward to the sun rising on the first new day of the new year. In the western world, perhaps any place touched by British traditions, that gathering will end with the singing of Robert Burns's poem, Auld Lang Syne, set to an ancient Scottish folk melody. At least three centuries before Burns's lyric became popular, there was another song shared among departing English, Irish, and Scots friends on the eve of the new year. We offer The Parting Glass to you tonight as we ring out 2018 and ring in 2019 as a year of hope overflowing with blessing and goodwill for all.
Happy New Year 2025!
Happy New Year, Postcard 149 Karl Dellavilla, ca. 1908
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.
Juneteenth? So, what is the new holiday about? If you are an American with African ancestry dating to the Civil War era you have known about Juneteenth from very early childhood; otherwise, the term may be vaguely familiar or perhaps even new. I think of Juneteenth as an ingredient in our national experience that is just now blending in the melting pot concept we learned about in elementary school. We're going to hear much more about the day as we should. This description from the Library of Virginia is a good place to start:
[Juneteenth] has grown into a popular event across the country to commemorate emancipation from slavery and celebrate African American culture. Juneteenth refers to June 19, the date in 1865 when the Union Army arrived in Galveston and announced that the Civil War was over and that slaves were free under the Emancipation Proclamation. Although the proclamation had become official more than two years earlier on January 1, 1863, freedmen in Texas adopted June 19th, later known colloquially as Juneteenth, as the date they celebrated emancipation. Juneteenth celebrations continued into the 20th century, and survived a period of declining participation because of the Great Depression and World War II. In the 1950s and 1960s Juneteenth celebrations witnessed a revival as they became catalysts for publicizing civil rights issues of the day. In 1980 the Texas state legislature established June 19 as a state holiday.
Emancipation Thomas Nast, American, 1865
Several significant days have competed to honor the subject including:
September 22: the day Lincoln issued his preliminary Emancipation Proclamation Order in 1862;
January 1: the day it took effect in 1863;
January 31: the date the 13th Amendment passed Congress in 1865, officially abolishing the institution of slavery, and;
December 6: the day the 13th Amendment was ratified in 1865.
The persistence of the celebration in Texas on June 19 embedded the celebration in the social fiber of former slaves and their families who carried it with them in their migrations to all corners of the nation and to urban areas in particular. Growing wealth among black communities in the 20th century enabled them to hold lengthier and more elaborate celebrations.
Despite a near-century of prejudice and racism, both de jure and de facto, Juneteenth survived across the nation. It was revitalized nationally by the assassination of Martin Luther King Jr. (April 4, 1968), in combination with his Poor People's March on Washington (planned for May 12 to June 24, and its early conclusion with the Solidarity March on June 19.
We extend our best wishes for a joyous day to all those celebrating Juneteenth. And it's the perfect time for all of us to "honor the countless contributions made by African Americans to our Nation and pledge to support America’s promise as the land of the free."
Visit Juneteenth to learn more about story and meaning of our newest national holiday.
Sources:
Photos and Illustrations: Library of Congress at loc.gov
Text: virginiamemory.com loc.gov wikipedia.com pbs.org, The African-Americans: Many Rivers to Cross "honor the countless" quote, whitehouse.gov
Many of us grew up knowing this day as Decoration Day but now it is best known asMemorial Day. Though both its date and scope have changed over time its central meaning remains strong. At virtually every crossroad town from sea to sea, there will be old soldiers, flags, a speech or two, and prayers. These events will take place at memorial walls bearing the names of the honored dead. Invariably, the audiences will be small, but firmly dedicated to the idea that the nation will always remember the cost of freedom.
This is a day of mixed emotion as we honor men and women who made the supreme sacrifice in service to their country. They gave their lives that we might live out our own in an experiment of community called the United States. As we enjoy the holiday we will take some moments today to think of these honored men and women and what they have given us and our families.
Here in words and images, the contemplative moments continue...
From the silence of sorrowful hours,
The desolate mourners go,
Lovingly laden with flowers,
Alike for the friend and the foe:
Under the sod and the dew,
Waiting the judgment day.
Under the roses the Blue,
Under the lilies the Gray
A Soldier's Burial
by General George S. Patton (1943)
Not midst the chanting of the Requiem Hymn,
Nor with the solemn ritual of prayer,
Neath misty shadows from the oriel glass,
And dreamy perfume of the incensed air
Was he interred;
But in the subtle stillness after fight,
And the half light between the night and the day,
We dragged his body all besmeared with mud,
And dropped it, clod-like, back into the clay.
Yet who shall say that he was not content,
Or missed the prayers, or drone of chanting choir,
Happy St. Patrick's Day! Today's post could focus on the contemporary experience of St. Patrick's Day in the U.S. - the wearing of the green, the parades, the parties, the drinking songs. Instead I want to look back at the true meaning of the day, the religious aspects, that so often get lost in the worldly celebration. Of course, there's nothing wrong with celebration - we do live in the world - as long as it's done in moderation while we keep the origins of the day in mind. Enjoy.
If you do nothing else with this post, at least listen to the remarkably powerful hymn.
The Reverend Paul Prange, Chair of the Board for Ministerial Education, Wisconsin Evangelical Lutheran Synod, has this to say about St. Patrick:
When it comes to St. Patrick, truth may be stranger than fiction.
Born in Scotland, he grew up as a Christian but was not too serious about his faith. His life changed suddenly at age sixteen when he was kidnapped by Irish pirates. For six years he labored as a slave, tending pigs and sheep. He began to value the Christian faith in which he had been raised. When he escaped from slavery, he made his way to the coast, got a job on a ship, and returned to his family in Scotland.
Back in Scotland, he could not get Ireland out of his mind. The love of Christ was compelling him to share with his former captors the promises of God that had come to mean so much to him while he lived among them. After studying the Bible for nearly 20 years, he went back to Ireland a free man, and he never left.
Patrick baptized thousands of people. He helped to organize congregations all over Ireland, and worked hard to train and ordain men to serve as ministers of the gospel. Among his converts were wealthy women who became Christians in the face of family opposition. He also dealt with the royal family of the time, instructing them in the truths of the faith.
It is very unlikely that he drove all of the snakes out of Ireland. He probably did not wear green all of the time. But the historical truths of his life are inspiring, and cause us to give thanks to God for faithful missionaries.
Our literary piece comes from the opening paragraphs of the Confession, one of two extant documents written by St. Patrick. The translation from the Latin by Ludwig Bieler.
I am Patrick, a sinner, most unlearned, the least of all the faithful, and utterly despised by many. My father was Calpornius, a deacon, son of Potitus, a priest, of the village Bannavem Taburniæ; he had a country seat nearby, and there I was taken captive.
I was then about sixteen years of age. I did not know the true God. I was taken into captivity to Ireland with many thousands of people---and deservedly so, because we turned away from God, and did not keep His commandments, and did not obey our priests, who used to remind us of our salvation. And the Lord brought over us the wrath of his anger and scattered us among many nations, even unto the utmost part of the earth, where now my littleness is placed among strangers.
And there the Lord opened the sense of my unbelief that I might at last remember my sins and be converted with all my heart to the Lord my God, who had regard for my abjection, and mercy on my youth and ignorance, and watched over me before I knew Him, and before I was able to distinguish between good and evil, and guarded me, and comforted me as would a father his son.Hence I cannot be silent---nor, indeed, is it expedient---about the great benefits and the great grace which the lord has deigned to bestow upon me in the land of my captivity; for this we can give to God in return after having been chastened by Him, to exalt and praise His wonders before every nation that is anywhere under the heaven.
Because there is no other God, nor ever was, nor will be, than God the Father unbegotten, without beginning, from whom is all beginning, the Lord of the universe, as we have been taught; and His son Jesus Christ, whom we declare to have always been with the Father, spiritually and ineffably begotten by the Father before the beginning of the world, before all beginning; and by Him are made all things visible and invisible. He was made man, and, having defeated death, was received into heaven by the Father; and He hath given Him all power over all names in heaven, on earth, and under the earth, and every tongue shall confess to Him that Jesus Christ is Lord and God, in whom we believe, and whose advent we expect soon to be, judge of the living and of the dead, who will render to every man according to his deeds; and He has poured forth upon us abundantly the Holy Spirit, the gift and pledge of immortality, who makes those who believe and obey sons of God and joint heirs with Christ; and Him do we confess and adore, one God in the Trinity of the Holy Name.
For He Himself has said through the Prophet: Call upon me in the day of thy trouble, and I will deliver thee, and thou shalt glorify me. And again He says: It is honourable to reveal and confess the works of God.
Although I am imperfect in many things, I nevertheless wish that my brethren and kinsmen should know what sort of person I am, so that they may understand my heart's desire.
And so I should dread exceedingly, with fear and trembling, this sentence on that day when no one will be able to escape or hide, but we all, without exception, shall have to give an account even of our smallest sins before the judgement of the Lord Christ.
Here is a link to the remaining eight pages describing his journey from slave to missionary.
I hope readers enjoyed thia week's posts about Irish culture, especially today's piece on St. Patrick and his place in the history of Chritianity. May you and yours have a safe and happy St. Patrick's Day.
St. Patrick's Day is but one day away. To get everyone in the spirit for the big day we take a light-hearted look at the country and bits and pieces of its culture.
In the late 19th century the Arbuckle Bros. Coffee Company of New York began issuing themed advertising cards in series to increase its business. I have over 300 of these cards that were collected by my ancestors over two generations. The company issued three cards with Irish themes and I'm pleased to post two of them in our St. Patrick's Day primer. The first one appeared in the National Geographical Series and did not have descriptive information on the reverse. The description below was issued with the card in the company's special promotional booklet entitled, Arbuckles' Illustrated Atlas of Fifty Principal Nations of the World [1889].
IRELAND, known to the Greeks by the name Ierne (Erin) and to the Romans by the name Hibernia, is the second largest of the British Isles, and is washed on the N. W. and S. sides by the Atlantic Ocean and separated from Great Britain by the N. Channel, the Irish Sea and St. George's Channel. Dublin, the capital, first mentioned by Ptolemy, is one of the finest cities in the Empire, and is situated at the head of Dublin Bay. A Lord Lieutenant is head of the executive government, and is assisted by a Privy Council and Chief Secretary.
Area, 32,531 square miles; population 1881, 5,174,836. Between 1853 and 1889 2,289,735 Irish emigrants landed in the United States.
The great central portion of Ireland is flat, and not less than 2,830,000 acres is bog, but much of the soil is of singular fertility. The climate is milder and moister than that of Great Britain, and clothes the plains and valleys with the richest pasture, procuring for Ireland the name of the Emerald Isle. The coast inlets, called Loughs, are many and of great extent. The lakes of Killarney, three in number, in Kerry, and under shadow of the loftiest mountains in the island, are widely famed for their romantic beauty. The chief crops are wheat, barley, oats, potatoes, beans, peas. The live stock comprises horses, cattle, sheep and pigs. The most important manufacture is that of linen. Other industries are muslin sewing, lace making and woolen and worsted goods. There is a considerable amount of whisky distilling and porter brewing. The Shamrock (trefoil) is the national badge of Ireland.
Our second card comes from the Sports and Pastimes of all Nations Series. I think you'll enjoy the description from the reverse.
THE Emerald Isle from time immemorial has been the home of merry sport and gladsome enjoyment. Its people are hotheaded and quick to resent offence, generous to a fault, and forgiving to a degree, superstitious, devout and easy going.
The celebration of Hallowe'en, the 31st of October is a festivity that is looked forward to with keenest anticipation by all the young people of Ireland. Numerous are the games played. For instance apples are placed in a tub of water and each in turn tries to pick one out with his teeth. If successful it predicted luck in matters of love.
Another Hallowe'en game is Apple and Candle. On a stick 18 inches long, an apple is fastened at one end, and a lighted candle at the other. The stick is suspended from the ceiling by a string and then the string is swung backward and forward, while the players one by one try to catch the apple in their teeth.
Who shall describe the Irish jig. Into its engaging movements and attractive energy is infused much of the national spirit.
A peculiar sport of the Irish, and one very characteristic of the humor of the race is that of the "Greased Pig." Such an animal is anointed so that his hide is extremely slippery. He is then started to run amuck through the ranks of those participating in the play. These attempt to catch and hold his pigship with their hands--a difficult task. He who succeeds, walks off with the prize the squealing cause of the tumult and hilarity.
The Irish are famous boxers. Boxing is the art of using those natural weapons--the hands, in assault and defence. To be a good boxer one must be quick of eye, self-possessed, ready of device, agile and good-tempered.
There is no shortage of traditional Irish music and we're happy to enjoy it with this post of The Dubliners's definitive version of the 17th century song, Whiskey In The Jar:
As I was a goin' over the far famed Kerry mountains I met with captain Farrell and his money he was counting I first produced my pistol and I then produced my rapier Saying "Stand and deliver" for he were a bold deceiver
Mush-a ring dumb-a do dumb-a da Whack fall the daddy-o, whack fall the daddy-o There's whiskey in the jar
I counted out his money and it made a pretty penny I put it in me pocket and I took it home to Jenny She sighed and she swore that she never would deceive me But the devil take the women for they never can be easy
Mush-a ring dumb-a do dumb-a da Whack fall the daddy-o, whack fall the daddy-o There's whiskey in the jar
I went unto my chamber, all for to take a slumber I dreamt of gold and jewels and for sure it was no wonder But Jenny drew me charges and she filled them up with water Then sent for captain Farrell to be ready for the slaughter
Mush-a ring dumb-a do dumb-a da Whack fall the daddy-o, whack fall the daddy-o There's whiskey in the jar
'Twas early in the morning, just before I rose to travel Up comes a band of footmen and likewise captain Farrell I first produced me pistol for she'd stolen away me rapier But I couldn't shoot the water, so a prisoner I was taken
Mush-a ring dumb-a do dumb-a da Whack fall the daddy-o, whack fall the daddy-o There's whiskey in the jar
Now there's some take delight in the carriages a rollin' And others take delight in the hurling and the bowling But I take delight in the juice of the barley And courting pretty fair maids in the morning bright and early
Mush-a ring dumb-a do dumb-a da Whack fall the daddy-o, whack fall the daddy-o There's whiskey in the jar
If anyone can aid me 'tis my brother in the army If I can find his station in Cork or in Killarney And if he'll go with me, we'll go rovin' in Kilkenney And I'm sure he'll treat me better than me own me sportin' Jenny
Mush-a ring dumb-a do dumb-a da Whack fall the daddy-o, whack fall the daddy-o There's whiskey in the jar
Mush-a ring dumb-a do dumb-a da Whack fall the daddy-o, whack fall the daddy-o There's whiskey in the jar
Sources
Photos and Illustrations:
Ireland, Arbuckle Bros. Coffee Company advertising card series, about 1890, from family archives
With two days left before the big day when everyone is just a little bit Irish I thought it would be fitting to visit the family's postcard archives and share pieces of Irish culture with readers. Hopre you enjoy the post. Be sure to check out tomorrow;s edition as well.
Here is the Song of Ireland written by the English singer-songwriter, Phil Colclough, and his wife, June. The performance is by The Dubliners featuring one of its founding members, Luke Kelly. Although his career was cut short by an early death in 1984, he is credited with saving much of Ireland's traditional music. His Wikipedia biography notes the "[he] remains an Irish icon and his music is widely regarded as one of Ireland's cultural treasures."
Walking all the day, near tall towers where falcons build their nests
Silver winged they fly, they know the call of freedom in their breasts
Soar Black Head against the sky, between the rocks that run down to the sea.
Living on your western shore, saw summer sunsets, asked for more I stood by your Atlantic sea, and sang a song for Ireland
Talking all the day with true friends, who try to make you stay
Telling jokes and news, singing songs to pass the night away.
Watched the Galway salmon run like silver dancing darting in the sun.
Living on your western shore, saw summer sunsets, asked for more I stood by your Atlantic sea, and sang a song for Ireland
Drinking all the day in old pubs, where fiddlers love to play
Someone touched the bow, he played a reel, it seemed so fine and gay.
Stood on Dingle beach and cast - in wild foam we found Atlantic Bass.
Living on your western shore, saw summer sunsets asked for more I stood by your Atlantic sea, and sang a song for Ireland
Dreaming in the night, I saw a land where no man had to fight
Waking in your dawn, I saw you crying in the morning light.
Lying where the Falcons fly, they twist and turn all in you e'er blue sky.
Living on your western shore, saw summer sunsets asked for moreI stood by your Atlantic sea, and I sang a song for Ireland
Sources
Photos and Illustrations: Postcards from the author's family archives
We had a federal holiday a few days ago commemorating Washington's birthday but it was simply another one of those government manipulations to provide us with three-day weekends. Washington was actually born on February 22, 1732. Perhaps a few days don't matter much in a nation that has lost its appreciation for history and reality over the past decades. Still there are some personalities and events worthy of authentic remembrance. George Washington, fondly recalled as the Father of His Country, is one of them. Here is what Scott Johnson (Powerline) has to say about the subject:
Of all the great men of the revolutionary era to whom we owe our freedom, Washington's greatness was the rarest and most needed. At this remove in time it is also the hardest to comprehend.
Today as we contend with the contemporary equivalent of "the Babylonish empire," let us send up our thanks to the Ancient of Days for this indispensable man.
In 1747, when Washington was 15 years old, he accompanied his friend, George William Fairfax, on a surveying expedition to the Virginia - now West Virginia - frontier and the headwaters of Patterson Creek, a tributary of the South Branch of the Potomac River. I got to know well over a thousand feet of Patterson Creek intimately over the span of a quarter century. The creek was a great source of recreation, leisure, study and contemplation. It was a powerful force in shaping my future. I learned of Washington's trip there long after I'd left the place but I still think about what it would have been like sitting on the creek bank in 1960 and suddenly seeing a teenage boy and his companions in colonial dress come slogging around the bend about 50 yeards downriver. That small stretch of Patterson Creek is a sacred place and although I havent sat on its bank or skipped stones across its quiet pools for fifty years this landscape I remember still speaks to me about our imaginary conversation. I'm quite sure that young Washington would have no expectation of becoming in the words of his eulogy delivered by Henry Lee, "first in war, first in peace, and first in the hearts of his contrymen."
In my experience every sacred place opens dimensions and portals as time exposes layers of its past. Listen carefully next time you stand alone immersed in the experience of your sacred place. There you recall your personal stories. Add imagination and who knows what you may encounter on the banks and bends of your river through time.
Sources
Illustrations: Stuart portrait, a copy known as the Lansdowne Portrait, hangs in the White House. The original is located in the National Portrait Gallery, Washington, D.C. Postcards are from the author's archive.
Regardless of what you may hear on the street today's holiday commemorates Washington's birthday. As the official federal government page states,
This holiday is designated as "Washington’s Birthday" in section 6103(a) of title 5 of the United States Code, which is the law that specifies holidays for Federal employees. Though other institutions such as state and local governments and private businesses may use other names, it is our policy to always refer to holidays by the names designated in the law.
At one time the nation had a Washington's Birthday holiday on February 22, the actual day of the man's birth, but that changed in 1971 when the "Monday holiday rule" took effect. The rule was a postlude to a torturous twent year saga of federal bickering, ineptitude, and state's rights issues over the national failure to honor our presidents, especially Abraham Lincoln, with their very own holiday. The fallout left us with what is in reality a Washington's Unbirthday holiday and a three-day weekend. Honest Abe didn't make the official cut.
That said, American capitalists, never keen to let a good shopping opportunity pass, liked the idea of a President's Day, especially one that could be stretched over a full week . They saw the advantage of the patriotic fervor generated by matching silhouettes of Lincoln - log cabins - and Washington - axes and cherries - positioned over merchandise and big red signs reading "SALE." The concept caught on. Today, about all Americans have left with the third Monday in February is the opportunity to buy stuff, mostly stuff they don't need. On the federal level, this not only leaves us with nothing for Old Abe but also nothing for the other presidents save George and his big unbirthday.
So what is one to do?
Perhaps it's best to forget the issues of a misnomer and the neglected presidents and return to Lincoln and Washington as our February presidents. And they have more in common as presidents who share the quality of American exceptionalism, a term we've been hearing more often these days as the republic drifts ever deeper into its golden years.
I elected some years ago to honor these gentlemen on their respective birthdays and celebrate this Monday federal holiday with an Old Fashioned and the pop and crack of a perfect fire. In time my conversations with the faces in the fire will help me organize a tribute post to George Washington that will appear on his birthday, February 22. We owe it to this statesman who postponed a well-earned retirement to become our first chief executive and shaper of what became known as the Office of the President of the United States.
Sources Text: federal holiday quote, opm.gov/policy-data-oversight
For your Valentine's Day 2024 I offer three love songs by The Bard of Scotland, Robert Burns.
Green Grow The Rashes, O
There's nought but care on ev'ry han', In every hour that passes, O What signifies the life o' man, An' 'twere na for the lasses, O.
Green grow the rashes, O Green grow the rashes, O The sweetest hours that e'er I spend, Are spent among the lasses, O
The warl'y race may riches chase, An' riches still may fly them, O An' tho' at last they catch them fast, Their hearts can ne'er enjoy them, O.
Green grow the rashes, O Green grow the rashes, O The sweetest hours that e'er I spend, Are spent among the lasses, O
But gie me a cannie hour at e'en, My arms about my dearie, O, An' warl'y cares an' war'ly men May a' gae tapsalteerie, O!
Green grow the rashes, O Green grow the rashes, O The sweetest hours that e'er I spend, Are spent among the lasses, O
For you sae douce, ye sneer at this Ye're nought but senseless asses, O The wisest man the warl' e'er saw, He dearly lov'd the lasses, O.
Green grow the rashes, O Green grow the rashes, O The sweetest hours that e'er I spend, Are spent among the lasses, O
Auld Nature swears the lovely dears Her noblest work she classes, O Her prentice han' she try'd on man, An' then she made the lasses, O.
Green grow the rashes, O Green grow the rashes, O The sweetest hours that e'er I spend, Are spent among the lasses, O
Ae Fond Kiss
Ae fond kiss, and then we sever; Ae fareweel, and then forever! Deep in heart-wrung tears I'll pledge thee, Warring sighs and groans I'll wage thee. Who shall say that Fortune grieves him, While the star of hope she leaves him? Me, nae cheerfu' twinkle lights me; Dark despair around benights me.
I'll ne'er blame my partial fancy, Naething could resist my Nancy; But to see her was to love her; Love but her, and love forever. Had we never lov'd sae kindly, Had we never lov'd sae blindly, Never met—or never parted— We had ne'er been broken-hearted.
Fare thee weel, thou first and fairest! Fare thee weel, thou best and dearest! Thine be ilka joy and treasure, Peace. enjoyment, love, and pleasure! Ae fond kiss, and then we sever; Ae fareweel, alas, forever! Deep in heart-wrung tears I'll pledge thee, Warring sighs and groans I'll wage thee!
A Red, Red Rose
O my Luve is like a red, red rose That’s newly sprung in June; O my Luve is like the melody That’s sweetly played in tune.
So fair art thou, my bonnie lass, So deep in luve am I; And I will luve thee still, my dear, Till a’ the seas gang dry.
Till a’ the seas gang dry, my dear, And the rocks melt wi’ the sun; I will love thee still, my dear, While the sands o’ life shall run.
And fare thee weel, my only luve! And fare thee weel awhile! And I will come again, my luve, Though it were ten thousand mile.
Happy Valentine's Day 2025
Sources
Photos and Illustrations: postcards from family archives
