One of My Heroes

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I fell in like with George Grant in 1995.

My husband knows.  He likes him too. 

1995 is the year we began to take World magazine.  Dr. Grant wrote book reviews in a column called Grant’s Tomes.  His choice of words, his turns of phrase, his cadences – in short, his style – charmed and captivated me.  His themes of booklove, gardens, music, food, family and friends bounced around my soul making  happy echoes and haunting overtones.  He loved Scotland.  [really, I could end this essay right there.]

Dr. Grant took me by the hand, so to speak, into a massive reading room.  As we moseyed by bookcases he began loading my arms with recommended books and filling my head with pithy quotes.  He taught me the lineup of his favorite big hitters: Chesterton, Chalmers, Buchan, Belloc, Kuyper, MacDonald, Lytle, Van Til, Roosevelt. He reviewed classics, ubiquitous and obscure.  Newly published books were spotlighted, but only the good ones.  He defended his practice of writing positive reviews. “I make no pretense of being a journalist or a professional critic of belles lettres,”  he wrote. “I am a reader who happens to enjoy sharing my favorite discoveries with others.” I had imbibed the waters of popular Christian pulp fiction and was thirsty for a heartier ale.  Grant, more than any other living soul (with my beloved Latin teacher coming in a close second), influenced the choices, direction and purpose of my omnivorous reading.  

I ripped those columns from their binding, snipped neatly around the borders, slipped them into page protectors and gripped them together in a binder labeled Book Reviews. 

This overstuffed binder full of clippings (not just Dr. Grant’s),

crammed with book lists, loaded with scrawled notes on little bits of paper, interspersed with directions to used bookstores,

tightened by essays on the bookish life, and containing a handwritten list written for me in answer to the question, ‘where should I start reading?’  by the late Dr. Mary Jane Loso

(the local university’s English Chair extraordinaire) is my personal Fort Knox.  If I were my own heir, this is the item I’d covet, the one thing I would abandon all pleasant “no, you go first” murmurs for.  Each time I pick it up I comprehend more.  Grant reviewed Wendell Berry in 1996, but I didn’t really meet Wendell Berry until 2006. 

We went to several conferences where George Grant was a speaker.  My husband and I joined the asymmetrical semi-circle of people waiting for a word with the tall, bow-tied, bespectacled man close to our own age.  When it was my turn, I shook his hand and simply said, “Thank you. You’ve changed my life.”    

Some college friends of ours have recently moved from California to Franklin, Tennessee.  Our theological paths seemed parallel thirty years ago, but time has widened the differences. We gently recommended  Parish  Presbyterian where George Grant is pastoring, but haven’t heard back.  Ain’t no question about it: if we lived in Franklin, that would be our church.

I picked up Grant’s book Going Somewhere this week.  It is so jam-packed full of goodness, that my review will take several posts, starting tomorrow. Stay tuned.

Penny Plain

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The first book from PaperBackSwap arrived and has posed a perplexing problem. 

This is 100 to 1 my favorite book to sit down and read in an evening or two.  It is a romance, but not at all the tawdry, gauzy stuff that is classified today as romance.  It is the kind of romance that C.S. Lewis would have enjoyed.  In my mind O. Douglas is a 20th century Jane Austen.

O. Douglas is the pen name for Anna Buchan, the daughter of a Presbyterian minister and sister of John Buchan, a Scottish novelist and all around Renaissance man.  I used to call Penny Plain my favorite cotton candy book, but that is misleading.  It is sweet but substantial, soothing but strengthening — a solid joy.  Literary and biblical allusions abound making it such a joy to re-read: Oh! now I get that one that slipped by me before. 

Here are a few random quotes to give you an idea without giving away the story.

She did not offer to help, for she knew that every
man knows best how to pack his own books…

You see, Biddy, I quite suddenly saw myself growing
old, saw all the arid years in front of me, and saw that
it was a very dreadful thing to grow old caring only for
the things of time. It frightened me badly. I don’t want
to go in bondage to the fear of age and death. 
I want to grow old decently,
and I am sure one ought to begin
quite early learning how.

She is the most happy change from the ordinary, modern
girl.  Her manners are delightful – not noisy, but frank and
gay like a nice boy’s. She neither falls into the Scylla of
affection nor the Charybdis of off-handness.  She has been
nowhere and seen very little; books are her world, and she
talks of book-people as if they were everyday acquaintances.
She adores Dr. Johnson and quotes him continually.

He won’t read a book that contains love-making
or death-beds. ‘Does anybody marry?’ 
‘Does anybody die?’
are his first questions about a book,
so naturally his reading is much restricted.

“It’s a beastly business putting away a dog,” said
Lewis Elliot. “I always wish they had the same lease
of life as we have.  Three score years and ten.
And it’s none too long for such faithful friends.”

What do I do with such a treasure?  The book is rare but not impossible to find. Fetchbook.info shows a few copies.  I’m thankful that this edition is large print.  I’ll need that when I grow old.  In the meantime, I think I’ll start a one book lending library.  If you would like to borrow this book to read (no due dates), please send me a message with your address.  I’ll keep a list in my journal and send it out to you as it becomes available.  I’d love to share this treasure with as many as would like to read it. 

 

The Tasks of This Day

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Send me, O Lord, into the tasks of this day rejoicing.

Teach me that I labor to Thee,
that I eat and drink to Thy glory,
that I think and plan to the ends
which Thou hast laid before me.

Do Thou strengthen me that I may
become willing to sacrifice for others.

Teach me to look upon my life today
as given me to help my fellowmen.

Let me see in my profession,
in the need of those who depend on me,
in the want and struggle of the world about me,
my field for loving service.

Remind me again that my life,
my speech, my faith
is nothing without love.

Grant that I be ready to forgive,
quick in sympathy,
earnest in my rejoicing with those who are happy,
and zealous in bearing the burdens of my fellow-men.

In Jesus’s name, Amen.

~ from the Lutheran Prayer Book

The Search for a Beautiful Life

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I remember with shamed face my attitude towards my bridal registry.  We were not china people at all.  So impractical!  So materialistic. So unnecessary.  So frou-frou.  It was stoneware for us.  Not local, hand-thrown pottery, just an ugly orange and yellow flower on a beige and brown background.  It was the 70s.  We had no patience with spending money on beautiful things.  “You can be just as hospitable with a paper plate as with a china plate.”  Yep, those words came from my mouth.  True statement, but the problem was that I truly thought paper was more spiritual than china.   Now I shudder at the arrogance. 

The times they are a changing.  Really, our minds are changing. 

My mother in-law and I had our annual garage sale.  The sale this morning was slow, so I went around my MIL’s neighborhood to the other 10-15 sales.   I bought a couple bags of books, 6 for a dollar, to post on PaperBackSwap.   Then I saw it.  A complete set of china in Christmas colors.  But there were only 8 place settings and we often have large gatherings for holiday meals.  I argued with myself about all the reasons not to get it and walked away.

After the sale was over, I told Mom about the dishes. 

“Oh,” she sighed, “I’ve always thought it would be fun to have Christmas dishes, but at my age we’re getting rid of stuff, not acquiring it .”

“Talk me out of it,” I challenged her.

“Does the set have serving dishes?”

“Yes, a bowl and a platter; it even has creamer and sugar bowl.”

“Where would you keep it?” she continued.

“I just cleaned a space in the garage cupboards.”

“How often would you use them?”

“They would be my everyday dishes starting the First Sunday of Advent. I’ll use them through Christmas.”

“Let’s go look at them.”

When we arrived her eyes got large.  “Oh my yes, they are lovely.”

Guess what?  The set, called Magnolia, includes two extra dinner plates!  We can easily have ten adults, and kids can use salad plates. The seller was asking $40.  I offered her my entire profit from my own garage sale, $27.  Sold! 

The First Sunday of Advent is December 2.  I can’t wait.

~     ~     ~   

A platter I picked up for $4 with this tablecloth in mind.

A 5×7 sized art book which I got for a quarter.

…because I especially loved this Degas.
 

which will go up in my small laundry room!

The longer I live the more beautiful life becomes.
If you foolishly ignore beauty,
you will soon find yourself without it.
Your life will be impoverished.
But if you invest in beauty,
It will remain with you all the days of your life.

~ Frank Lloyd Wright

Fine Art Friday & Grandparent Names

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Cottage Vincent van Gogh

I’m doing a joint garage sale with my MIL today.  I had an oversized book of van Gogh prints in the sale for $2.  I started looking at it and pulled it off the table, putting it back in my stack.  I used to believe I didn’t like van Gogh, and it’s true there are some fractured paintings not to my taste, to quote my friend Dana (I miss you!).  But this Cottage just draws me in and seems to have a very long story to tell.  My house is small, but if I have to I will frame some of the pictures and hang them in the garage. 

~     ~     ~

I was watching my grandson Gavin one day when his other grandpa dropped something off at our house. 

“Hey Gavin,” I called, “look who’s here!”

He came running and grinned the cutest grin and said, “DaddyDad!” 

That’s how I discovered Gavin’s name for his other Grandpa.  He could never master Granddad…it came out DaddyDad.  So here’s the lineup for the little guy, excluding the massive list of aunts and uncles:

Daddy and Mommy

DaddyDad and Grammy (my DIL’s folks – I can’t wait to give her a Grammy Award)

Papa and Nana (that’s Curt and me)

Grandpa and Ma’am (the great grandparents)

Granddad and Grammy (the other great grandparents who live out of town)

It’s silly, but names for grandparents fascinate me.  Some, like Opa, come from national origins.  Others, like my oldest brother, Grumpy, come from the limitations of a child’s speech.  I remember recently when George Grant became a grandpa, he was amazed at how many choices there are in Grandma names and how few in Grandpa names. 

I would love to hear from you, lurkers and all, either what you called your grandparents or what your grandparents call you, OR what names you’ve heard which delight or tickle you.

Medieval Movie Roundup

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Back in March, I wrote about a list of films with a medieval context.  Here are reviews of the ones we watched, our favorites listed first.

A Knights Tale

This was the last one we watched and, hands down, the favorite of the males of the house.  It corresponded with our reading of the Canterbury Tales.  It is goofy, predictable, and anachronistic (the opening scene has medieval crowds doing the pound-pound-clap to Queen’s We Will Rock Them).  But it was fun and funny.  Chaucer is a clever character we meet walking down a path buck naked (from the back) because he has gambled his clothes away.  Brief nakedness and all, it was one of only two movies which did not require fast forwarding through scenes.  Guys and gals will enjoy this. ☺☺☺☺☻

Ran

(pronounced ron or rahn)  This is King Lear in a Japanese context.  It is a big movie, epic, and captivating.  If you have read King Lear you must watch this.  If you haven’t read King Lear, you’d learn the story in a beautiful setting.  Like most of the movies on this list, the pace is slow.  There were some incredible horses galloping down the mountain sequences that almost match the scope of LOTR.  We FF through one scene. I recommend this for drama, cinematography, acting, and exposure to medieval Japanese culture. ☺☺☺☺☻

The Name of the Rose

Sean Connery, a period piece, a mystery…this was a stark, beautiful movie.  I had read Umberto Eco’s book a few summers back so I knew what to expect.  It may be harder to comprehend without that background.  I was very grateful for the tip to FF through a kitchen scene.  My trigger finger was ready.  It appeared without much warning.  Besides that, some viewers might not want to see dead bodies in vats of liquid or at the bottom of a cliff.  There are several dead bodies in this mystery.  ☺☺☺☻☻

The Seventh Seal

The cinematography in Ingmar bergman’s 1957 film reminded me of an Ansel Adams photograph.  Not just because they are both black and white: the play of light and shadow, the focus of the camera let you know a master was behind the lens.  You must be a patient viewer to get through this snail pace, contemplative film.  A bogus miracle worker has some funny lines, i.e.  “Whichever way we turn, our backside’s behind us.”  In one sense I was glad to have watched this just because it is a classic.  ☺☺☺☻☻

Black Robe

This movie combined highly excellent and ghastly elements together.  I could not recommend it.  The cinematography and music are glorious.  Sweeping vistas and  long distance river shots with full orchestra scores provided moments of sublime pleasure.  But it was not worth all the other stuff you had to wade through. Every time the camera was inside a tepee was reason to FF.  And the message of the movie bothered me.  The missionary was a bungling, ignorant fool.  The mission was a failure.  The final scene of death and misery seemed to underline a hopeless, nihilistic scorn.  ☺☻☻☻☻

oh – Oh – OH!!

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One of the minor irritants in my life is the drop down tab to input your state in an address.  Here’s why I dislike it: I use the keyboard to input the address and zip code before and after the state, but I have to move my hand to the mouse and scroll down to find OR for Oregon. 

It’s just not efficient. I usually type O, which gets me OH, a small scroll away from OR.  Often, in my haste I type OR and suddenly I’m at Rhode Island.  Bother!!

Yesterday I was working on a project at the pharmacy bringing our formerly outsourced payroll in house.  For each employee I needed to choose Oregon from a drop down tab four times.  After playing around with it several ways, I discovered that if you type the same letter it toggles through the states beginning with that letter.  For instance, if you want Indiana, type I – I – I – I  and you will see IA, ID, IL, IN.  If you type it five times by mistake, you’ll just get IA again.

This is such a tiny thing, but it made me so very happy to type O-O-O with my finger and avoid the mouse.  I couldn’t keep from giggling and feeling smug and victorious.  My co-worker chuckled and said, “It doesn’t take much to make you happy, now, does it?”  That’s me.  Easily amused.

Disco, baby, disco!

Kristin Lavransdatter – Mistress of Husaby

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The second book of the Kristin Lavransdatter trilogy is really the anatomy of a marriage.  Sigrid Undset sculpts an realistic profile of a difficult marriage.  Kristin has to face the weaknesses of her husband; eventually, with the help of her father no less, she sees some of her faults.  Early on, she compares her daily life with that of her parents.  There is a contrast in the orderly manner in which her folks carried on their affairs and the reckless neglect that has been the M.O. of her husband’s estate.  Studying the three marriages in this book (Kristin’s, her parents’, and her sister’s) would be fodder for some great discussion.

Which makes me wonder: how much of an issue is housekeeping in a marriage?  Not just sweeping the floor and doing laundry, although it includes that; but, how do we reconcile different approaches, different mindsets to work and leisure? 

In the first section, The Fruit of Sin, Kristin struggles with the guilt of her sexual immorality and disloyalty to her parents.  She embarks on a solitary pilgrimage, walking twenty miles by herself to the Archbishop, who can give her absolution.   When she arrives at the cathedral she ponders the architecture.

Human beings had never compassed this work of their own strength – God’s spirit had worked in holy Öistein, and the builders of this house that came after him.  Thy Kingdom come, Thy will be done on earth as it is in heaven – now she understood the words.  A reflection of the glory of God’s kingdom witnessed in these stones that His will was all that was fair.  Kristin trembled.  Aye, well might God turn in wrath from all that was foul – from sin and shame and uncleanness. (snip) The singing cut into her like a too strong light. (snip) The undeserved mercy broke her heart asunder; she knelt, crushed with penitence, and the weeping welled up out of her soul as blood flows from a death-wound. (pp 100-101)

In a parallel scene her husband takes a risky, solitary trip on foot to Lavran’s estate and seeks to make peace as well as make amends with his father and mother-in-law.  We see in Erlend a man who can charm and persuade, a fearless warrior who leads men into battle, but a man who finally lacks self-control.  Undset does such a good job of showing strengths and weaknesses: in Erlend, in Kristin, and in their marriage.

“You must have known it yourself, Erlend – a thicket of briers and thorns and nettles had you sowed around you – how could you draw a young maid in to your side and she not be torn and wounded and bleeding –” (p.87)

The rest of this book is not driven by plot as much as character development.  Kristin and Erlend have seven sons.  As Kristin’s marriage struggles wax and wane, the love between her father and mother becomes deeper and more secure. 

…all other love is but as an image of heaven in the water-puddles of a muddy road. (p.139)

And she tried to shut out from her mind all care for things wherein she could take no hand.  She would only think of those matters in which she could do some good by her carefulness.  All the rest she must leave in God’s hand.  (p.167)

For in her soul sin still had its being, as the root-tissue of the weeds is inwoven in the soil.  It flowered and flamed and scented the air no longer, but ’twas still there in the soil, bleached, but strong and full of life. (p. 281)

I haven’t finished the trilogy yet and I’m ready to begin re-reading it.  I have read the older Charles Archer translation.  Next time I’ll read Tiina Nunnally’s 1997 translation.  There are other Sigrid Undset books on my list. Another new author to explore.  Sigh.  Life is good.

Simple Pleasures in July

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~   One cool cowboy down to the essentials of life

~ A faithful son who keeps all green spots , including plants in pots, watered

~ A clean desk.  It’s really not that Simple, but the Pleasure’s great

~ PaperBackSwap – I joined Friday and I’ve already mailed out four books.
My all time favorite “cotton candy” book, Penny Plain by O. Douglas,
(the sister of John Buchan) is on its way to me through PBS.
I just saved $25!!
Color me happy.

You pay the shipping to mail a book.
You get a credit for a free book.
Someone mails you a book (free!).
1,345,634 books to choose from.
Essentially you get books you want for ~ $2.13 a book.
PS – there are A LOT of homeschool materials

~ A new trick for an old dog.
Did you know that you can layer postage stamps?
Only the denomination needs to show.
Cleaning my desk gleaned many old stamps.
They are almost all used.
Hooray!