Chick Hits Wall: Film at Eleven

In order to get a Master’s (and later, PhD) in Antiquities from Georgia State, one must read a certain list of ancient books, and/or books about ancient peoples. One must also know Greek and Latin.

As my dearest loyal readers (and you both know who you are) have been keeping track, my Greek vocabulary is a whopping 30 or so words now. What keeps my hand from self-patting my back is that 4 of those words are the names Peter, Paul, Abraham, and Christ. What can I say? the text is called “New Testament Greek”- meant to be used in reading Ancient Authors, not spoken to Ari Onassis and family.

I figured I could take extensive notes on a few of the Required Reading Books whilst learning Greek and developing my Latin, and be done with the List by the time I talk with College Admissions gurus in 3 years. Ever the practical, I started at the beginning of the aphabet- “History of the Roman Empire” by some guy named Allen, and “Agamemnon” by Aeschylus. Got ‘em both from the local library system, here in Nowheresville, Georgia.

Extensive notes are probably a necessity, even to the extent of taking notes on the introduction and preface of each book. After all, who knows how much the prof requires? I’ve been slaving through the preface to “Agamemnon” for 3 days now whilst the kiddos are correcting their spelling each morning (about 15 minutes a day), and have a page of cramped writing to show my diligence.

At dinnertime, Mr Wonderful was tutoring across town, and the warmer weather had enticed all three kids outdoors. Perfect time for me to dive into the actual story of the play/poem. (I despise poetry in general, and hold fast to the belief that only Shakespeare and Goldsmith wrote any plays worth their salt.) Taking a deep breath, I turned the page of Denniston’s version of “Agamemnon”….

Dang. The thing’s in GREEK! 1200 lines of mumbly wiggly letters and exclamation points! The intro was in English, for pete’s sake! The library said it was “Denniston’s version of Agamemnon”! With a name like Denniston, you’d think it would be a translation into ENGLISH! Why in the world does Nowheresville, Georgia carry a book written in GREEK in its library?

I’ve got an hour until sundown drives the kiddos indoors. Let’s hope “History of the Roman Empire” is in one of the languages I understand.

Life Jumped In

In the form of a kiddo needing breakfast, so now I’m back.

As for funeral traditions. Up North, adults go to funerals, the kiddos stay with some in-law or young (in her mid-20s) 2nd cousin who was not too close to the deceased. Kiddos don’t come to the dinner afterwards, either. I think it’s because watching adults break down is considered too scary for the kids.

(When my Aunt Rita’s husband died 4 or 5 years ago, my dad didn’t even send flowers. His own sister! He called a couple weeks later, to “give her time to calm down”.)

Mr Wonderful tells me, however, that Down Here everyone, but *everyone* is expected at the viewing, funeral, and fellowship hall dinner. Do the kids wear dark clothes, church clothes, or what? I forgot to ask. Better find out and head over to Thrift City.

(When my dad died 2 years ago, he had only lived in Georgia for 2 weeks. Had never been to my church, nor met anyone who goes there with us. Following Dad’s wishes, we cremated him- the whole affair was over in 3 days. Mr Wonderful told me yesterday it freaked out a couple of people in our church that they didn’t have anywhere to send flowers, cards, meals. He says they still look at him funny when he mentions my dad.)

I didn’t know Karen well. What wrenches my heart is how much my friends (who did know her) are going to hurt. Are we going to skip AWANA this week? The annual Christmas dinner was Karen’s project- she ran the whole thing every year, even last year -when she was 3 weeks out of chemo. Are we skipping the Christmas dinner this year? Even if it’s scheduled, will anyone want to go?

Look out, toes.

Karen, and Tradition

We sat in church yesterday, with the 2 boys who had slept over Friday night sitting beside us. I’ve been their Cubbies leader. We attend the Home Group that meets in their house. They come to watch my son play football. Their dad helped Mr Wonderful make our kitchen table.

Their mom was at the ICU bedside of her stepsister, Karen. Their dad had gone out of town for the weekend, not knowing it would be Karen’s last weekend. (She’s had cancer for 3 years now.)

In front of us was the family who sets up Communion for our church. They live 45 minutes away, and make the drive to church and other big activities, and serve us by coming in every 6 weeks to put out the juice and matzah. Mom, Dad, Oldest sister (now serving with New Tribes Mission), Older (age 19) sister, two sons, youngest daughter the age of my #2.

In the lap of Communion Mom (whom I admire and like) was Karen’s youngest child, age 3 1/2. We all knew Karen had been taken to ICU on Saturday. That the doctors had told her that there was nothing more they could do for her. That she probably wouldn’t see another Thanksgiving with her family. What could we do for that toddler except smile, not let him see our hurt or guess at his own coming hurt?

It was a somber service. The pastor let us know he had called in a substitute preacher- Karen was his stepdaughter. Our pastor couldn’t preach yesterday. He and Karen’s mom had spent the night at the hospital. It’s been such a long couple of weeks for him and Karen’s mom. He had watched his first wife die of cancer, you see.

Here’s the post at her blog. http://kisherwood.blogspot.com/

I’m thankful for Mr Wonderful, who is teaching me the Southern way of doing things, so I don’t insult my friends too terribly.

Happiness Is…

A husband who will direct the 4 children in cleaning the kitchen after dinner whilst I grab quiet blogging time.

Days Off, Studying Bilocation

Ooo-weee! A 3-lb can of coffee in the food pickup! (Plus cokes, potatoes, pasta salad, salad-in-a-bag, applesauce and juice boxes.)

Finsihed 2 pair of flannel pajamas for #3 this afternoon. He must like them, he was grinning and wearing a pair when he came in for good-night kisses. (Heavens, it hurts already to think how much I’m going to miss those kisses once he outgrows them.)

Got one of #1’s hems fixed- one left. Tomorrow I’m going to try to get some lace on the ragged bottom of the girls’ curtains, before Mom-and-Dad-in-Law see the odd shape. God willing, I can put together #2’s new skirt pretty quickly. Except for the elastic.

(Side note: There are little things about my adult life that surprise me greatly. Doing 3 loads of pink wash a week, from having such girly-girls. Running out of cumin. Running through 2-3 bottles of pancake syrup a month. Running out of elastic every time I start my sewing projects. Well, it just goes to show the kiddos are their own people, not little carbon copies of me. Good thing, since one is a boy.)

I’ve got 1 jumper cut out for #1. Must get that together and tried on before I cut out the other 3. Not much worse for a sewing mom than 4 outfits that don’t fit, after you’ve spent $50 bucks on fabric.

Now, how to schedule lots of quiet sewing time at the big table between a vital trip to the bank, shopping for next month’s groceries (and a “thank-you gift certificate for #3’s football coach, since Saturday is the last game), teaching geometry for an hour, and picking up the boys for a sleepover? (Soup and salad for dinner, of course!)

Also in queue: Reading through a novel #2 picked up at the library today to see if it’s ok for her to read. Beginning serious note-taking reading of “Agamemnon” and “The History of Rome” for the Master’s Degree Required Reading List. Chapter 6 of the Greek text. (Praise God, Greek has exactly the same noun cases as Latin, so I will only need to learn the new spellings, not new grammatical concepts. Hebrew, as I understand it, would be a different beast altogether.)

Bring on the weekend!

A Touch of Chill

Lord, have mercy on the ambulance driver passing by our house tonight. Help him (or her) to drive carefully. Have mercy on whomever is hurt or sick. Ease their pain.

It’s chilly tonight, for the second time in a row. Full moon, too. I wonder if someone thought it would be a good idea to turn on the central heat, the space heater, the fireplace, and the fire took control, as it has out West. It’s too early in the year to start this, too early to hear about folks hurting and dying, just trying to keep their families and themselves warm. Have mercy, Lord.

Older Sister

Yesterday was my sister’s birthday. She is my only sibling, 13 months older. We have never been close, but it’s been a lot better in the last 5 years.

Ten Things I Do Remember about My Sister:
1. Coming down to breakfast and finding she had not only eaten her donut, she had sucked all the jelly out of mine and left the empty shell. It took me until 2 years ago to forgive her, but now just thinking about it makes me laugh so hard I almost wet myself.

2. Seeking relief from a hot summer night and sleeping on the front porch, when I overheard her tell a friend, “My sister is so tomboyish she doesn’t walk, she marches.” I immediately developed expressive hand motions. One of the things Mr Wonderful likes the most, he tells me, is how beautiful my hands are in movement (and I’ve never told him about my sister’s comment).

3. Mom called me just after Thanksgiving 14 or so years ago to chuckle over my sister’s cooking foibles. She had tried a new recipe (pumpkin muffins) and doubled the baking powder. Mom and I still call them “pumpkin mushrooms”. (My sister has also been known to make stuffed cabbage, put it in the oven, and then notice the browned beef still sitting on the countertop…)

4. Getting the official photo of her in her Air Force uniform. I hadn’t seen her in 2 or 3 years, and she looked so solemn. (She had also bleached her hair in the meantime.) Every time I look at that photo I’m so proud of her. She served in the Gulf War, stationed over in Saudi Arabia.

5. Getting the phone call that she had been led to Christ by the father of a guy she bought a car from. Sis, I’m so sorry I was skeptical. I hope you never know.

6. Wearing her hand-me-down Greek-style white dress to prom. “Sylph-like” describes her figure, and on her it just flowed. “Potato-shaped” describes me. Thankfully, we didn’t own a full-length mirror! lol!

7. Going on Senior trip, just the two of us, to DisneyWorld. We thought we’d fly down to Melbourne, rent a car (she had a license, I didn’t), spend a night on the beach, and be at Disney after 10 minutes’ drive. (It’s more like 3 hours. Teenagers are not known for finding car travel fascinating. Think a cat and a dog trapped in a compact car in the heat for 3 hours.) She held to her responsibility, however, and didn’t dump me at the side of the road at any point on the trip.

8. Dad explaining, again and again, that her antagonism was based on frustration that she couldn’t beat me at anything- she would get a 100 on a test, I would get the extra credit points for 103. I now have two daughters in exactly the same situation- the older lagging behind the younger in everything. God, give me, and them, grace.

9. Watching her sing a Dolly Parton song during the talent portion of the Beauty Pagent (oh, sorry, Scholarship Competition) of my dad’s VERY large company. She was 16, had never entered a beauty contest of any kind, had never had singing lessons, and we had spent a total of $10 on her costume (jeans, cowboy hat, fringed shirt). In spite of seeing the other Professional Beauty Contestants perform, she bravely got up when it was her turn and completed the 4-minute display. I’m so proud of her. I hope she heard me clapping.

10. She was so understanding after Dad died 2 years ago. “You take care of everything”, she said. “I trust whatever you decide.” About 4 days later, when we had to decide what to do with the ashes, she made it easiest on me. “You need closure on this. Do whatever you think is best for you.” Dad was generous, too, but she would never want me to compare her to him, so don’t tell her I said that, OK?

Burn

Nothing burns me faster than people lying about God. He’s not hiding, folks. He spelled it out quite clearly in The Book With the 1,000-Pound Cover, aka the Bible. (Re-titled because so many seem unable to actually open their copy.)

Jesus quotes the Old Testament books- Genesis to Malachi, not including the Apochrypha. Jesus (God) gave them authority. Jesus turns the church over to Peter, who writes New Testament books. Peter says Paul’s writings are Scripture, so Paul’s writings are included as authoritative.

Nope, nobody gave credit to the Apocrypha. There may be a “Journal of Judas”, but it didn’t “escape the burning of the library of Alexandria”, since the fire happened more than 30 years before Jesus was born.

There is a serious warning in Revelation about adding to the Bible- the person who adds being cursed with every curse described in the entire Book. So, please, find another way to make yourself look more special than the rest of us. Don’t claim you’ve read “newly-revealed Scripture”.

God has already given us everything we need in the 66 books of the Bible. If you want more out of life, do the work of reading, studying, and applying those.

Shakespeare

You have to love Shakespeare’s ability to transcend culture. I’ve seen quite a few performances where that fact was blatant, of course- when we lived in Orlando (nope, not named after the hero of As You Like It, sorry) the local theater delighted in performing one Bard comedy and one tragedy per summer in the amphitheater, set in a stereotypical genre.

The acting has to be truly great, however, to overcome Taming of the Shrew set in the Wild, Wild West. For those with conservative morals, having Kate lean over a balcony in ultra-low cleavage doesn’t help the suspension of disbelief, either.

Suspending disbelief was difficult in the version of “As You Like It” that we watched last night, too. Kenneth Branagh (I’m a big fan of his work) did a version of AYLI for HBO Films, and decided English-infested Medieval Japan was the right setting. Although it was nice to see Kevin Kline (I hate his morals but have admired his acting since A Fish Called Wanda and Big Chill) stretch his talent even further to play Jacques believably (and that’s a first for me. I don’t much understand the melancholy temperment), although this is the best Rosalind I’ve ever seen (since there was not a spark of tomboy in her), sometimes the incredibly cleanliness of a cast supposedly half-starving in a medieval forest was jarring.

References to Roman gods are peppered through the script, and it didn’t help to hear English actors in Japanese costumes try to convincingly rely on “Jove”.

AYLI used to be my favorite Shakespearean play. Then I finally saw Love’s Labor’s Lost at the Atlanta Shakepeare Tavern (good food, very overpriced) and was thankful (again) for a Northeastern education.

Still can’t stand to see Romeo and Juliet, however- a rebel at heart, I suppose.

Who Was That?

One reason I blog is to sort out my innermost thoughts. Not who I normally show to the kiddos, casual acquaintances, etc.

Does this make me more transparent in cyberspace than in person? Probably. How would you say I come across? (I promise not to hold it against you!)

Pick a couple of adjectives for me, please.

http://kevan.org/johari?name=jerseychick

Thanks!