Lift Up Your Hearts!

I suppose it's cheating to make two posts in a row about someone else's post, but I can't pass up this great Conversion Diary guest post by Simcha Fisher.  Her analogy between childbirth and the Child-birth (Christmas) is an imaginative tour de force worthy of Ray Bradbury.  (If her writing is less brilliant and esoteric than Bradbury's, it is still excellent, and definitely more uplifting.)

It would be stretching "fair use" too far to quote as much as I'd need to to make her point.  Go to the original and follow her from Advent (third trimester) through Christmas (birth, and the first few weeks after) and Epiphany (the light at the end of the tunnel) to Ordinary Time (the return to normal life, with a big difference).  Enjoy!

Jon's long-time friend Sara Foss writes a newspaper column in my old home town.  Recently the family stopped by for a visit, and ended up featured in the latest Foss Forward.  Having given Jon ample time to post about it himself, I'm breaking the news here, along with some of my favorite excerpts.  :)

[M]y friend Jon; his pregnant wife, Heather; and their three young children — ages 2, 4 and 7 — visited my home in Albany.

Naturally, I was all freaked out about having a bunch of kids descend upon my one-bedroom apartment, which lacks toys, children’s books and games. I did run out and buy pretzels and graham crackers, so that they could have a snack, but for the most part I felt woefully unprepared to entertain my young visitors.

Fortunately, the New York State Museum is right around the corner, and after a brief stint in my apartment, in which the girl played with my collection of turtle knickknacks (I even filled a bowl with water so that she could watch the plastic wind-up turtle paddle around) and her brothers improvised a game of darts in the bedroom, we headed up the street. I suspected the kids would enjoy riding on the carousel, looking at gems and stuffed animals and playing on the computers in the Discovery Room, and I was right.

In truth, I never should have worried about whether I would be able to entertain Jon’s family for an afternoon.

I’ve known Jon since I was 2, and I sensed that his kids were a lot like him — curious, imaginative, friendly, eager to do new things and see new places. What I enjoyed most about them was how well they played on their own; I didn’t have to worry about entertaining them because they entertained themselves. In fact, it seemed like they had just as much fun running up and down the sidewalk and jumping in snowbanks as hanging out in the museum, and their antics reminded me a bit of how Jon and I used to play in the snow when we were kids.

The subject of the article is the habit people have of comparing children, especially babies, with their parents:  "He sure looks like his mom"; "That's Uncle Frank's nose"; "She walks just like her father."  Sara would agree with Porter's mother, who always insisted, "They look like themselves."

I'll admit to playing the game, including very recently with Joseph, who I think looks very much like his dad from the nose up and his mom from the nose down—based on baby pictures of both.

Jon’s older boy had always struck me as very Jon-like — highly verbal at a young age, interested in puzzles and games, etc. — but now I see more of his mother in him, especially in his face.

I remarked upon this, and Jon said that when they visit his hometown, everyone comments on how much the older boy looks like him — “It’s Jon!” — while Heather’s relatives and friends always note his resemblance to her.

The younger boy did look a lot like Jon, as well as Jon’s brothers, while I had a tough time figuring out exactly who the girl reminded me of, if anyone.

Here's my contribution to the debate about Jonathan.  To be fair, I need a similar photo of Jon; it's hard for those of us who didn't know him as a blond boy not to be influenced by hair color.  And I would be remiss if I did not point out that "highly verbal at a young age, interested in puzzles and games, etc." is also a fair description of Jonathan's mother.  :)

Stephan's thoughtful parents gave Porter a jar of Speculoos à Tartiner for Christmas, and I can't wait to try it.  It's made by Lotus, the same folks who make the incredibly delicious Biscoff cookies Porter occasionally brings home from a plane flight.

I don't have as much quarrel with the TSA as many people do, but I am tired of having my luggage singled out for hand inspection nearly every time I fly.  On my most recent trip to Switzerland, I wasn't particularly surprised to find the tell-tale TSA notice in my checked bag when it and I were finally reunited (that's another story), because I was carrying a large, metal cylinder filled with dangerous ... candy canes.  The can did a great job of protecting the fragile candy, but must have looked intimidating on the x-ray.  There is no packing job so good that the TSA can't make a hash of it, but the only victim of their efforts was one crushed chocolate truffle.  We promptly destroyed the evidence.

On the way home I thought I had a chance of escaping.  I had a few bizarre encounters with airport security—none of which involved pat-downs, I'm glad to say—but it wasn't until I landed in Charlotte that my checked bag became a problem.

First, I was singled out for special treatment at Customs, because I'd answered honestly the question, "Are you bringing any food into the country?"  That always gets me into trouble, although normally as soon as I explain that the food is chocolate, cookies, and similar items, they lose interest.

Not this time.  Everything, including my purse, went through a scanner.  "What's in the jar?" I was asked.  "It's kind of like peanut butter," was the best I could do, but it was sufficient.  The pleasant Customs officials released me, and I thought I was home free.

Not too surprisingly, however, Customs and the TSA don't share all their information.  When I retrieved my bag in Orlando, it was not the unscathed piece of equipment I had re-checked in Charlotte.  That my special Towers-Perrin strap was ripped was clearly the fault of some mechanical demon, but what accounted for the odd shape of the bag?  When I opened the bag to check for damage, it was clear that someone had gone through the contents.  No way would I have left fragile items on the very top, unprotected by several layers of clothing!  Amazingly, all appeared to be well, despite the mangling.  But who had done the inspection?  It must have been done in Europe, I reasoned, because I could see no TSA slip.  It wasn't until a few days later, when I removed the Speculoos jar from its protective wrapping, that I found the notice from the TSA, carefully wrapped around the jar....  To give them credit, they did return the glass jar to its bubble wrap, and no damage was done.

I'm really looking forward to tasting that which caused so much concern.  If it's as good as I hear, I may be braving TSA and Customs inspections on subsequent trips.

That's all I was going to say.  But in researching Speculoos à Tartiner for this post, I came upon this post by pastry chef David Lebowitz.  While drooling wandering around his site I also discovered a post about his visit to Lausanne, Switzerland.  At least one of my readers will not want to miss it.

Two, apparently unrelated, stories shook my complacency this morning, particularly in their juxtaposition.

First (h/t MMG), this disturbing TED talk by Hanna Rosin:  New data on the rise of women.

UPDATE August 6, 2019  Apparently this post has become corrupted over time. The link to the TED talk still works, but all text relating to the mysterious second story is missing. And while I continue to love the St. Crispin's Day speech from Henry V, I now have no idea how it might have been related here.

The Vintage Bradbury: Ray Bradbury's Own Selection of His Best Stories, by Ray Bradbury (Vintage, 1990) (original copyright 1965)

I picked this book out from my son-in-law's collection because my nephews had recently read Something Wicked This Way Comes for their book club, and I realized I hadn't read any Bradbury in a long time.

Now I'm probably done for another five years or so.  Some of the stories were enjoyable, but most I found too weird and depressing for me.  Tales of bizarre "healers" whose treatment of choice turns out to be rape, and of children plotting to kill their parents—not to mention babies murdering their mothers!—are not worth spending precious reading time on.  I'm very sensitive to the content of what I read and watch—One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s nest troubled me for years—and find it better not to give my mind too many dark ideas upon which to brood.

On the other hand, nobody writes like Ray Bradbury.  I wish he had put his imagination and incredible descriptive skills to a more uplifting purpose; he’s a genius, without doubt.  His stories are about as close to poetry as prose can get—at least not without falling into the outlandish world of James Joyce.

And family is family.  Ray Bradbury is my sixth cousin twice removed. 

Resolution #1, Read More Books, was by far the most successful of the dozen I developed throughout 2010.  I read 65 books in the year:  fiction and non-fiction, from children's lit to an 800-page survey of ancient history.  This is a marked improvement over recent years, and I attribute it to (1) recognizing that I had let other activities replace the habit of reading, (2) deciding to make the change, and (3) setting up a system of measurement (a simple, but public, list) whereby I could see my progress or lack thereof.  This resolution is a keeper.

What did I learn most from this experience?  The realization that we can probably no longer call ourselves a literate nation.  Is there really much difference between someone who can't read and someone who doesn't?  I'm a fast reader and a good one; I love to read books and I watch television only rarely; I'm a homemaker whose children are grown.  What's more, few of the books I read were difficult, and I counted audio books as well.  In short, I have everything going for me when it comes to reading, and I made the goal as easy as possible to reach.  Yet it took a deliberate, sustained effort to read at a rate of just over one book per week.  It is now clear to me that if we want to recover literacy, it's not going to happen without serious, determined work.  Nor can we leave the effort to our schools, which to give them credit have been trying every trick in the book and then some to get kids to read, but which cannot seem to produce many graduates who read without coercion.  Literacy, like charity and world peace, must begin at home.  How can kids learn the importance of books if they never see their parents reading?

Or ... wait.  Kindles.  iPads.  Could it be that Books + Electronic Devices = Literacy for the Next Generation?  Stranger things have happened.

For the curious, here is my list for 2010, sorted alphabetically.  A chronological listing, with links, is here.

1. The Abernathy Boys  by L. J. Hunt
2. Between Heaven and Hell  by Peter Kreeft 
3. Born to Run  by Christopher McDougall  
4. The Brain that Changes Itself  by Norman Doidge  
5. The Brothers Karamazov by Fyodor Dostoevsky (audio book, abridged)    
6. Christians Are Hate-Filled Hypocrites ...and Other Lies You've Been Told  by Bradley R. E. Wright 
7. The Chronicles of Narnia: The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe  by C. S. Lewis
8. The Chronicles of Narnia:  Prince Caspian  by C. S. Lewis
9. The Chronicles of Narnia: The Voyage of the Dawn Treader by C. S. Lewis
10. The Chronicles of Narnia: The Silver Chair  by C. S. Lewis
11. The Chronicles of Narnia: The Horse and His Boy by C. S. Lewis
12. The Chronicles of Narnia: The Magician’s Nephew  by C. S. Lewis
13. The Chronicles of Narnia: The Last Battle  by C. S. Lewis
14. The Chronological Guide to the Bible, published  by Thomas Nelson
15. Common Sense 101: Lessons from G. K. Chesterton  by Dale Ahlquist 
16. Covenant and Communion: The Biblical Theology of Pope Benedict XVI  by Scott W. Hahn 
17. The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-Time  by Mark Haddon  
18. Ender's Game  by Orson Scott Card  
19. Eugenics and Other Evils  by G. K. Chesterton 
20. Everything I Want to Do Is Illegal  by Joel Salatin 
21. Food Rules  by Michael Pollan
22. Forgotten God: Reversing Our Tragic Neglect of the Holy Spirit  by Francis Chan (audio book)
23. The Four-Story Mistake  by Elizabeth Enright
24. Free-Range Kids: How to Raise Safe, Self-Reliant Children (Without Going Nuts with Worry)  by Lenore Skenazy 
25. Fruitless Fall: The Collapse of the Honey Bee and the Coming Agricultural Crisis  by Rowan Jacobsen  
26. Getting Things Done  by David Allen
27. The Gobblestone School  by Jacob Schriftman 
28. Gold: The Final Science Fiction Collection  by Isaac Asimov 
29. Healing Through Exercise  by Jörg Blech.
30. The History of the Ancient World: From the Earliest Accounts to the Fall of Rome  by Susan Wise Bauer 
31. The Hobbit  by J.R.R. Tolkien
32. Homeschooling for the Rest of Us  by Sonya Haskins 
33. Inconstant Moon  by Larry Niven
34. In Defense of Food  by Michael Pollan 
35. In Tune with the World  by Josef Pieper 
36. Into the Silent Land: A Guide to the Christian Practice of Contemplation  by Martin Laird 
37. It Happened in Italy  by Elizabeth Bettina 
38. A Journal of the Plague Year  by Daniel Defoe 
39. Just Courage  by Gary Haugen (audio book) 
40. A Little Princess  by Frances Hodgson Burnett
41. The Lord of the Rings: The Fellowship of the Ring  by J. R. R. Tolkien
42. The Lord of the Rings: The Two Towers  by J. R. R. Tolkien
43. Magic: The Final Fantasy Collection  by Isaac Asimov 
44. Martin Luther: In His Own Words (audio book, includes The Small Catechism, 95 Theses, On Faith and Coming to Christ, On Confession and the Lord's Supper, Of the Office of Preaching, Excerpt from Luther's Tower Experience, and The Last Written Words of Luther)
45. Mayflower  by Nathaniel Philbrick 
46. Murder Must Advertise  by Dorothy Sayers 
47. No More Christian Nice Girl  by Paul Coughlin and Jennifer D. Degler
48. Non Campus Mentis  by Anders Henricksson 
49. The Omnivore's Dilemma  by Michael Pollan 
50. The Philosophy of Tolkien  by Peter Kreeft
51. The Pursuit of God  by A. W. Tozer (audio book)
52. Rabbit Hill  by Robert Lawson
53. Ready for Anything  by David Allen 
54. Saint Patrick  by Jonathan Rogers 
55. The Saturdays  by Elizabeth Enright 
56. The Selfless Gene  by Charles Foster 
57. Speaker for the Dead  by Orson Scott Card 
58. Spiderweb for Two: A Melendy Maze  by Elizabeth Enright 
59. Stained Glass Elegies  by Shusaku Endo 
60. Stones into Schools  by Greg Mortenson
61. Theatre Shoes  by Noel Streatfeild 
62. Then There Were Five  by Elizabeth Enright 
63. Thinking in Pictures:  My Life with Autism by Temple Grandin
64. Three Cups of Tea  by Greg Mortenson and David Oliver Relin 
65. Weapons of Mass Instruction  by John Taylor Gatto 

I started 2011 early, being at the time six hours ahead of most of my readers.  But as I did not get back into this country until very late last night, I lost that advantage and then some.  In an unusal and daring move, I did not take my computer with me this trip.  (At each of the many airport security checks, I proudly answered, "no" when the agent pointed to my backpack and queried, "computer?")  This step was not as meritorious, nor as risky, as it might seem, since I had three other computers at my disposal at my destination, but one must begin somewhere.

Despite the opportunity to indulge in e-mail and blog checking on an almost daily basis, real-life events (remember real life?) pared that to essentials.  In other words, I returned home to an intimidating backlog for both.  By eating the elephant one bite at a time I am making progress, but some areas are not getting their usual attention, so if you wrote something important and I haven't responded, feel free to try again.

And Facebook?  I'm not even going to try to catch up.  If I missed a major life event you posted only on Facebook, have pity on me, forgive me, and let me know about it some other way.

Inconstant Moon, by Larry Niven (Orbit, 1991; original copyright 1973)

One of the advantages of having our son-in-law's book collection at hand is that I can indulge in my passion from a previous stage in life:  science fiction.  The disadvantage is that I'm beginning to suspect that my tastes have changed.

I thought I remembered liking the works of Larry Niven, and maybe I did.  But now, this collection of stories was one-for-seven for me.  The last, Death by Ecstasy, is an interesting mystery, but most of the tales are dated, with an embarrassing 1960s flavor—not surprising, since that is when they were written.  There's just too much of the holier-than-thou, making a point that the characters are of different races (racial tensions were a big problem in the 60s), and 'way too much emphasis on how in the (enlightened) future, the one-husband, one-wife, faithfully-married-with-children kind of sexual practice, so reviled by the sexual revolutionaries of the time, will be such a rare variation as to be almost unmentionable.  This might have been daring, titilating writing 45 years ago, but today it gets old fast.

On the other hand, I enjoy observing the ways in which the old science fiction writers mis-called both scientific and social changes.  As they say, anyone can predict the invention of the automobile, but it takes a genius to anticipate the traffic jam.  In a world of interstellar travel, enormous lifespans, and pleasure-stimulating brain implants, the computers are still huge, and ashtrays common in every home, hotel, and office.

Perhaps the worker at Babies R Us had noticed me walking up and down the aisles, examining the toys, sighing, and putting them back.  Or perhaps she was just doing her job.  But when she asked, in a friendly manner, "Are you finding what you're looking for?" I hesitated, then replied, "No."

"What are you looking for?"

"A toy not made in China."

(Today's Mallard Fillmore comic strip.)

She was certain she could help me, but as she checked toy after toy her astonishment grew.  She discovered one item—alas, for a much older child than our six-month-old grandson—made in North America, and I pointed out the one toy I had found that was made in Thailand.^*  Other than those two, everything was from China.  Every.  Single.  Toy.  Clothes are made all over the world, judging from my label-reading experience:  Honduras, India, Indonesia, Bangladesh, Vietnam, Domincan Republic....  But not toys.

I was not surprised, having been through this drill before, but the helpful salesperson was astonished, and even called a supervisor for help.  Perhaps that's one reason China has a virtual monopoly on children's toys, and agri-business rules our food supply:  we don't know where things come from.  I left empty-handed; our grandson will have to make do with something more creative.

The water came, not from the sky, but from the sprinklers left on overnight in an attempt to raise the ambient temperature for sensitive plants closer to 32 degrees than the predicted 25.  The ice shows that the precautions were not unwarranted.  At 4:30 a.m. our back porch thermometer registered 35 degrees, but I suspect it was quite a bit colder than that—the sensor is located near the house and above the worms, which had their own heating lamp for the night.

With an enthusiastic tip of the hat to PD, I present Hillsborough, New Hampshire's own Bible Hill Boys in this awesome Christmas video, (I Do All My) Christmas Shopping at the Dump.

This is in tribute to our very own UJ, who is the undefeated champion of dump shopping in Connecticut.  In Florida, as in many places, dumps are dirty, smelly, nasty, dangerous things.  But in thrifty New England residents can separate out potentially reusable trash and "dump" it in special locations (at the transfer stations), where others can find treasure.  Sometimes literally:  our UJ once found a diamond ring!  Unable to find the original owner, he presented it to his wife.  Needless to say, she does not consider her husband a chump.  He's a champ!  "UJ's Store" is a great place for shopping, whatever the season.

Enjoy the song!

Blackberry = Crackberry?  The iPhone is more addictive and targeting children!  Well, maybe that wasn't Apple's intention, but they did make their phone so easy even tiny kids can use it.  My brother tipped me to a New York Times article on parents who use their iPhones to pacify whining offspring, and the toddlers who consider the phone to be the best toy in the toybox.

Instead of writing about how impressed I am with the tiny kids' abilities (and I am), or how depressed I am about yet another video addiction in chidren's lives (ditto), I'll use the context to mention our own toddler/computer story.

One day Heather discovered two-year-old Faith sitting at the computer, typing away in their Open Office word processing program.  She assumed Jon had set it up for her, but that was not the case.

No one knows how she did it.  This is no consumer-friendly iPhone, nor even Windows, but a Linux-based system only a geek could love.  Go, little geeklet!

Nothing shows American individualism like the days between Thanksgiving and the end of the year, when everyone is free to celebrate the holiday of his own choosing—ancient or modern, major or minor, traditional or made-up—as long as he follows the Two Cardinal Rules:

• Don’t assume everyone else wants to celebrate the same holiday you’ve chosen, and
• Spend lots and lots of money!^*

I reach into the grab bag and choose:  Advent, all twelve days of Christmas, and Epiphany.  Perhaps New Year’s Day as well.  None, technically, involves spending a lot of money, but we generally manage to do our part, and so far this year has been no exception.

For the purposes of this blog, the operative word here is holiday.  I am attempting to take a break for the season.  I seriously doubt I won’t post at all, but do expect a significant reduction in the number and length of posts.

May whatever holiday(s) you celebrate bring you blessing!

^* The money doesn't have to be spent selfishly, despite what the television ads may lead you to believe.  I recommend considering some version of the Advent Conspiracy.

This resolution comes straight from George MacDonald, via his novel Robert Falconer.  It expressed the “divine law of [Falconer’s] activity,” and I wish to make it my own.

The phrase spreads before me a vision of quiet, effective work punctuated by seasons of true rest, the antithesis of modern society’s frantic—and often ineffectual—labor, and equally frantic striving after (unrestful) recreation.

Another author who captured this vision was J.R.R. Tolkien, in his short story, Leaf by Niggle.  At one point in the story, the protagonist is in a purgatory of sorts, and I love this description of what happens in him:

It could not be denied that he began to have a feeling of—well, satisfaction:  bread rather than jam.  He could take up a task the moment one bell rang, and lay it aside promptly the moment the next one went, all tidy and ready to be continued at the right time.  He got through quite a lot in a day, now; he finished small things off neatly.  He had no "time of his own" (except alone in his bed-cell), and yet he was becoming master of his time; he began to know just what he could do with it.  There was no sense of rush.  He was quieter inside now, and at resting-time he could really rest.

It was from Shinichi Suzuki that I first heard, “Never rush, never rest,” which captures a similar idea, but one not as good, for rest is essential.  “The Sabbath was made for man.”

Jim Loehr and Tony Schwartz (The Power of Full Engagement) studied top-notch tennis players to determine what separated the great from the greatest.  The players were equally skilled at the techniques of the game; the crucial difference appeared in how they used the brief moments when they were not actively playing. The really great players had learned how to rest between points.

Into Great Silence, a film about the Carthusian monks, gives yet another glimpse of what I seek in this, my final resolution for 2010.  Two monks are cutting wood into fireplace-sized lengths for heating.  The young novice quickly breaks into a sweat, and wears himself out with his energetic motions, while the old man calmly, deliberately, and slowly outpaces him in production without looking in the least bit tired.

Focussed, unhurried work; effective rest.  A good aspiration for Advent, the Season of Preparation, though perhaps a most difficult one during the secular Christmas season, which neatly epitomizes its opposite.

This year I've had more fun than ever before with my "New Year's" resolutions.  I'll probably find more next year, but on a less regular basis, as once a month is obviously a faster pace than I can put them into practice.  What I hope to do with this year's resolutions, as each reaches its one-year anniversary, is take time for analysis:  how I've done, whether or not I still think the resolution is valuable, and how I might make it more measurable (and thus more likely to be accomplished).

Progress Report

#1  Read More Books  In November I surpassed my most ambitious goal for the year, that of five books per month, wtih a total of 61.

#2  Rediscover Feasting  Thanksgiving at my sister's house is one long string of amazing feast days.  I'm still not good enough at saving the feast for special days to receive such times with the kind of joy and abandon that hungrier people do, however.

#3  Learn to Relax  I've been more regular (though still not good enough) at taking time each day for deliberate, focussed relaxation.  I also found our two activity-charged weeks away from home much less stressful than usual.  I'm not sure why, but I take it as a good sign.  (I don't mean that being with our wonderful family is in itself stressful, but I tend to stress out easily when there's a lot going on and a lot that needs to be done.)

#4  Like More Things Hmm.  What to say here?  I think I already liked everything I did this month, except missing my flight connection on the trip home after Thanksgiving.

#5  Pay Attention  I continue to work on keeping my mind focussed on the "now" of whatever I am doing.  When I remember.  What was I writing about?

#6  Cast Away Fear  Travelling alone and dealing with unexpected storms and missed connections gave me some practice here.

#7  Talk Less, Listen More  Spending two weeks with lots of other people gave me more opportunity to practice this, and if I wasn't all that successful, I at least remembered this resolution on occasion.

#8  Enjoy Spontaneity  Not much to say here, but again, being away from home does tend to force me into some spontaneity, and I did enjoy it.  :)

#9  End with the Beginning in Mind  Nothing I can think of to report this month.

#10  Care More about Other People—and Less about What They Think  It's not easy to do, but there have been several occasions when I have made this a deliberate choice.

#11  Practice Thanksgiving  I had a lot to be thankful for this month—including a safe, if long, trip home—but to be honest I was no more thankful because of the resolution than without it.

So, this headline popped up in my news feed today:

US, Israel, PA fail to reach agreement on settlement freeze

and my immediate thought was, "Why is Pennsylvania negotiating directly with Israel?"