Further Reading: "Pastoral" by Nevil Shute

 Nevil Shute, again

I believe I have labelled several of his titles on this blog.

This novel was called "Pastoral", written in 1944. An edition called a "wartime book". It appears I have a first edition, printed in Kingsport, TN of all places. Imagine, a small city in TN had a viable industrial plant printing books during WW2.

The story of about a skilled young (22) bomber pilot, veteran of nearly 50 long range bombing runs over major cities in Germany, later in the war.

He meets and falls in love with a beautiful young signal  officer, Gervase. His problem is, she is unawakened to the charms of men. She's 21 and was brought up to have a career for a while before (matter of factly) getting married. Plus, she is dedicated to her war work.

So, Peter Marshall, the pilot, has to wear her down, woo her with dates and fun.

Meanwhile, it's not all fun and games: he has two very frightening bombing runs with are described in exciting detail--even as we read about them, nearly 80 years on!  And there are a couple of  interesting twists in the narration.

Yep. Another from the stock pile of books I collected to get me through the current, unfolding emergency.

I can't usually sleep through the night, so I turn on the light and read a while.

Part of this is age: old people don't sleep as well. Part is worry; people say we should not worry: some even say it's a sin to worry. 

I say it's unhealthy to worry, so I try to take my mind off the evil circumstances. 

The Monastery of the Mind--a phrase used by Victor Davis Hanson...

...it fits.

Basically, we have worked about the house, (beginning the ultimate clean out of our home, for what ever move we might make) walked outside, watched You Tubes, done some careful travel by car, beginning to work on family history, targeted and necessary appointments such as dentist, doctor (and today, a haircut).

And, thank Goodness we have not needed the Doctor very much at all!

And reading.....

Who knew I had such an interesting library of used books gleaned over the many years at second-hand book stores, book exchanges, etc?   (I've been preparing for the Pandemic for all these years!)

So I have shopped my stash!

Latest is a slim paperback volume by Francis N. Stites on the life of Supreme Court Justice John Marshall-Defender of the Constitution.

Interesting--in a nutshell--the early founders and framers of our institutions had to assemble the principles of our Rule of Law from the cases they had before them: several had to do with land deals and real estate claims in the West; Marbury vs. Madison (established the importance of the contract to the individual in law) was an employment dispute.

Marshall himself was a Virginian, son of a bootstrapped farmer; he had extensive real estate in VA and in the emerging area of Kentucky. He was loyal and loving to a young wife who never recovered from the nervous breakdown she had, early in their marriage, over the successive deaths of a couple of children! She was almost completely house bound, in her room and needing quiet--but she kept having children.

This little book was published about 1980; I'm not sure it could be released in our world today. 

The Framers and Founders of the US were not naive or stupid. They saw and understood evil and criminal behavior. They had the likes of Aaron Burr to content with, after all. But I wonder if they were able to anticipate and foresee the gradual rise of Marxist Communism (50-80 years in the future)? A seemingly unstoppable progression of thuggery, staged on a world wide basis? I just don't know.

 

"Following the Equator - A Journey Around the World" by Mark Twain

 I inherited a copy of the first edition of this book, owned by my Second Great Grandfather (who passed away in 1920). I have mentioned him and his family in previous posts.

The volume sat in my bookcase for a few years before I decided to read it---I think Covid-shut down exasperation spurred me on to submerge myself in another world.

And this is another world! To read the book is like taking a long Victorian journey as well as a ride in a time machine. I recommend it. I like Twain as a travel writer better than I did (when I was forced to read some of his novels in school). 

He starts his journey in Paris, where the family was living for a while in the 1890's, sails for America and crossed the continent; there were raging forest fires in the west then, as now.

Across the Pacific to Hawaii, though there was an outbreak of some virulent plague (just like now) and the through-passengers were not able to leave the ship. Lots of interesting observations about passengers, crew, etc.

Onward to Australia; the most detail in the book was about Australia and India. Twain was on a speaking tour, of course, so he stopped at each of the major population centers.

India: as I was reading each section, I YouTubed for videos about each of this stops. Except for Darjeeling and one or two others, I bet Twain would not recognize modern Indian cities if he returned today. The Australian cities, he might.

One YouTube I shouldn't have watched: The Towers of Silence; funeral repositories for one of the many religious groups of India. This process involves ceremony, a massive but low circular stone tower, priests, dead bodies and vultures.  Use your imagination.  Twain describes this as a clean, neat procedure for disposing of the dead.  What about the smell?  So I YouTubed it: sure enough, someone flew a drone above one of these pits! It is not clean and neat at all--the vultures don't pick the corpses clean in minutes as Twain claimed.   

Much more attention to India: the low-down on Thugs and Suttee: gangs of roving stranglers and widow burning. The Mutiny in 1857--never heard of it before (since I never paid any attention to English history after 1781.)

On to South Africa, where I learned more about the diamond trade and mining practices that I ever did.

Cecil Rhodes, The Boer War, and so much more.

On a ship again, and headed back to Europe. Within the next year, he sat down and wrote this interesting book. It was as if he was speaking directly to me, across the distance and the years.

I Don't Like Autumn

The season has lovely aspects, without a doubt: bright colored leaves, riotous hues.

But I find that the decline of year, the chilling of the weather (though refreshing at times), the Halloween holiday is not my favorite-it was about fun and kids in costumes, excited about candy; now the decorations are quite morbid. The decreasing daylight--the sun is so low in the sky.

 However, after December 21, the light slowly begins to return, the days seem to lengthen. Somehow, immediately, just after Christmas, I feel better, more hopeful. I always look forward to garden activities, the plans to start the seeds. Soon you begin to hear the birds--cardinals and chickadees--tweeting their "spring songs".   It just feels so much better.

Mother's 101 Year Birth Anniversary

 

At her Grandparent's farm; probably taken in the early 1930's. Mother is getting too big for a pony.

A random toddler snap shot from about 1921.

Book Fail. Something called "Roots Schmoots" by Howard Jacobson

I took a break from Mark Twain and his travels at the equator:

Recently I went for a long enough bike ride to make it necessary to scout out a washroom at one of our local train stations. Thank Goodness, the facility was open--you can't always depend on availability of public washrooms during the plague.  haha.

This train station has one of my favorite book exchange racks, which I have missed. Sometimes I find the best old books that others have discarded this way. I was so delirious that I fell for this one.

"Roots Schmoots--Journeys Among Jews". Information about the heritage and genealogy of Jewish families, I hoped. And this too, like Twain's book, is a travel book, of sorts.

The author is British, of a Jewish family from Manchester; he is near 80 by now. He considers himself a humorist, I guess. He is a fine writer. His family worked hard to provide him with a great education to become a writer and critic.

He travels from the UK in about 1990 to discover information about Jewish communities on the path of where his families may have been. The book seems "dated" by now; the tone has not aged well. George H.W. Bush is President of the US. Desert Storm is current news. This book does not "know" about the attacks of 2001 (and how that changed us). We don't need glib, sassy humorists so much just now.

The author seems not to "like" his subjects--for as far as I got; about 1/3 of way.  His tone is disparaging to living people who he names! Some are public figures and some maybe not; I was shocked by this. 

He should have titled the book "Journeys Among Jews" and taken a kinder approach; not gone for the cheap laugh and caustic remark.

I slammed the book shut when he attended a photo exhibit in Los Angeles of Roman Vishniac, a 20th Century photographer who specialized in photos from the ghettos of Europe in the 1920's, 30's. Literally capturing the last sunsets of a population soon to be betrayed and massacred.

Jacobson is scornful of these photos! Seemingly making fun of the poses of scholars, rabbis, etc. Again, I was shocked. The author wrote this just 40 years or so from the end of the Holocaust (and 30 more years have passed and people are still not healed!) The people in the photos were soon to be killed, but did not know this--Jacobson knew what happened to them. Insensitive? At least.           I hope the book resolved itself in the end; I hope that in the author eventually cultivated a better attitude toward the people of his heritage.   I couldn't hang around to find out; I will avoid any of his books that I happen upon.

I'm writing this only because I feel like writing something, into the Google-ether in the fall of 2020.

Now, back to Mark Twain.

Autumn Has Arrived. In a Plague Year.

For the sake of blogging, the difficulty is that I have lost the compulsion to photograph everything I see.

Few photos make for not-very-interesting content?

My days consist of yard work (to clean up the autumn yard), housework (our area had a lot of road work done this summer=lots of dust). Sewing; it is good for me to sew on something regularly. Cooking.

We took a pleasant, three day camping trip last week--it's a bit cool, but with camping, we can avoid hotels, uncertain cleanliness and the Covid virus.  

We visited Chain O' Lakes State Park in Indiana. It is a nice place with lakes and hiking trails.

We had a real restaurant lunch: the first outing of this sort since February. In a small Indiana town.

We have not experienced any illness or contact with the Virus. We don't know anyone who had it, though we have second hand accounts.  We are "elderly", but with good health.

I don't worry about it; go regularly to grocery stores. It is difficult to go to the library since you have to make an appointment to visit.  So, I'm shopping my in-home library for items to read. I have visited my doctor, though have delayed a regularly scheduled screening.  Simply trying not to become a prisoner of the Thing, live our lives--but quietly.

The social unrest in the country scares me worse than the Virus. The social unrest is worse than anything encountered during the 1960's, I can say from having been there.

I think everyone is tired of it all. 

"Following the Equator" by Mark Twain

I am usually not interested in reading Twain; but I find I have inherited a first edition of the book.

It was originally owned by the natty gentleman, pictured with his family in the photos above. I have written about him before, since in May was the 100th anniversary of his passing.

The book was published before the turn of the last century, it's about 123 years old; in pretty good shape, mostly standing in the bookcases of by my 2nd Great-Grandparents, then my Grand-Parents and my Aunt.  One of my cousins presented me with the book.

I'm about 1/3 of the way thru the book; he's still in Australasia (as Oz was called then), traveling to scheduled lectures in the cities and towns of Australia. It's interesting. I'm using You Tube to follow along, viewing selected videos about the various locations. My 2-g-gf did not have that opportunity when he read the book. In some ways, our lives have changed so much.   

He passed away in 1920---I believe it was some form of respiratory condition. I wonder if it was the Spanish Flu of the Pandemic of that era?? He was about 88 years old when he died.

At least a couple of other relatives died that year: my Campbell G-GF and one of his granddaughters, a young woman of 30.

What I've been doing? Gardening, some travel, reading, sewing, keeping house, walks in the neighborhood.

I hope this iris comes back next Spring. Savannah Sunrise-or ...set. Photo does not do it justice. 

Some of the usual day lily suspects in the yard. I spend some time in yard most mornings before it gets too hot. 

 I finished reading Faulkner's "The Hamlet". The trouble with Faulkner is: no matter how depressing the story or what a terrible time he gives his characters, his writing was so excellent that it is difficult to select another book to read.  A "go-to" author for me was always John Le Carre.

With "The Mission Song" it did not work. I finished the book--only "just". Yes it had points of interest. I have visited You Tube videos about various subjects concerning central Africa, D. R. Congo, Rwanda, etc. Can't forget news reports on bloody, gory genocides of recent decades.  I would never consider a visit to Africa for any reason. Too far, too long, too hot, too strange, I would not like the food. Maybe the fruit and flowers.

We traveled by car to Hopewell NJ to visit one of our sons and his wife and dog. It was a refreshing trip. We needed to visit our son, who we had not seen for a year.   Next we will need to find the strength to visit the other one in NC.  Not til "it cools down" in so many ways. 

For a global pandemic, (and us being 72) you'd think I be more frightened of the disease; I'm nervous about the social unrest (this seems worse than the 1960's; more intentional). I don't even know anybody who has COVID, though I've heard some 2nd hand reports.

I have picked up a Mark Twain book about his trip around the world at the equator. I'm not an actual fan of Twain, haven't read any since high school, etc.  The volume I am reading was handed down from my 2nd Great Grandfather and bears his signature so I wonder how many of his household may have read the book.  It's a little slow, the humor is not very funny: but Faulkner liked Mark Twain, so I'll give it a go.

Finally I finished "the Hamlet"

Now, what am I going to read next?

Our library is "open" but you have to make a reservation to visit the inside and search for new material.

I have a few things here I might look at.  We have missed the library; we usually visit once a week.

After the ordeal that reading The Hamlet was, I need a palate cleanser; something light.

Nearly finished with "The Hamlet" by William Faulkner

He wrote novels with subjects so shocking, they still seem raw today. His ability to craft his writing is what saves the taudrey, depressing stories---that, and his light touch with gruesome details. Your mind fills in the gaps. He portrays dynamic movement well--like a galloping horse, a person falling down a staircase, etc.

The Hamlet was the first "Snopes" novel in a trilogy. It is set about the turn of the 20th Century.

Faulkner's family was from the "planter class" of 19th century Mississippi, though not excessively wealthy; he was aware of the social decline of his family and friends; he had sympathy within the black community and friends, too.

The times did not favor the poor, white hill farmers of the South; even those who tried hard had difficulty to prosper. The Snopes family was beneath them. He said "a Snopes is a son-of-a-bitch's son-of-a-bitch", a "different kind of man, like a cotton mouth is a different kind of snake". Snopes's would burn peoples' barns for a grudge or kill another man for winning a court case, the family had to be forced to care for one of their own who suffered severe mental handicaps (to the point where he had fallen in love with a neighbor's cow and "married" it! Shocking) This book tells the story of Flem Snopes' rise to prominence in the village of Frenchman's Bend, his marriage to the local Big Man's daughter and their eventual departure for Jefferson.

Faulkner could find no sympathy for the Snopes's, though he spoke with evenness about those Snopes wives who were able to care for their families with the poor lot provided by the usual Snopes man.

Why am I writing about this? I'm writing about what I am doing--above the level of household chores--This is what I am doing.  Faulkner's world was complex, dangerous and perplexing: wars, depression and worry.

You Tube During the Quarantine? (disappointed).

I probably annoy my friends and acquaintances with my reliance on You Tubes for entertainment, news, interviews, discussions, instructions etc.

I don't know why--and maybe it was just "Me"--but the platform lost it's so-called "sizzle".

During the Stay-at-Home order, I was careful not to watch too much, careful to try to keep busy about the house and garden, take long walks. But anyway, it seemed most of the You Tube creators were over-taxed by the tendency to "over-produce"....

So maybe this whole You Tube Thing was just a phase with me...?

We're not going back to cable.

Our public library is not fully open yet. That has been difficult.

Farmhouse Vernacular is the one of my former favorites that still makes me smile.

And I'm reading more books, of course.

What Am I Doing?

Summer Solstice is my favorite time of year.

I like to get up "in the 4's" and watch the sky get light and listen to the birds wake up. Depends on how well I have slept.

Which normally is not too well these days.

I like to work in the flowers early in the day, with my best energy. Then work around the house or go shopping for food once a week.

I tend to lose energy after noon. Or I sew. Or read.

I'm continuing with my "Faulkner Studies" by reading "The Hamlet".

I'm not very happy. Worried about everything. But I understand most people are right there with me, on the worrying. I've been very fortunate to live in peaceful times most of my life. Most of the world's population has never known real peace. Prayer, instead of worry.

But I worry about the younger people. My own kids. Pray for them.

I finally finished the William Faulkner bio

         The book was written by Joseph Blotner, as I mentioned before. It was over 700-pages; it was a page turner, surprisingly.

          The subject, William Faulkner, was complex, moody and elusive; he seemed to believe that his work should stand on its own, without people invading his privacy. 

           The book was full of little nuggets of information: conversations he had with other famous people (which they later reported or remembered). Joan Crawford, Clark Gable, Ernest Hemingway, etc.

What he told Robert Oppenheimer on the subject of the emerging medium of popular TV cannot be repeated in today's world.

            Speaking of TV, at one point the author revealed that Faulkner only valued TV for horse races, occasional sports events and one favorite situation comedy series he enjoyed.  We were left hanging for a few hundred pages, wondering which show he liked. I thought and thought.      Finally, the reveal: William Faulkner enjoyed a silly show called "Car 54, Where are You?"  

            What would William Faulkner make of the sad circumstances the country is in now? Of course, he wouldn't be happy. But by the time he passed away, he was ready to go. He was beyond caring what would happen to the rest of us.  By now, his daughter has gone, also. He has grandchildren still living. 

            He wrote about and was disturbed by the unequal treatment of Blacks by our legal systems. In his day, there were no Federal Civil Rights laws, so inequality could vary wildly, depending on where you were. His views made him rather unwelcome in his home state of Mississippi. Read "Pantaloon in Black", as an example of his  ability to relate the story of a Mississippi tragedy that will burn your soul---in his usual poetic prose, smoothly veiled but unmistakably pointed toward his message.

            Safe to say, he would be horrified by the rioting, looting and random murders. 

            As I proceed to read his novels and stories, I am comforted by an understanding of his tortured life, always worried about money, unable to fight his alcoholism consistently; yet able to produce some 19 novels and countless stories. A real body of work.  He died from the effects of several severe falls from his horse, over the course of the last year of his life. He had internal injuries which were not addressed--maybe could not be at that time. And his back bones were all chipped and cracks. He was racked with pain.

Family History Play Again: "What was left"... Hostages to Fortune; a Sad Story

Someone said that having children, being parents, is to give hostages to fortune or fate.

One of my 2nd Great Grandfathers, shown above with his wife, Lena and their surviving daughters, about 1885.  Tomorrow, May 20, 2020, will be the 100th Anniversary of his passing.
My Great Grandmother from this branch, Marie Louise, stands at left. She would be the next to die.

He came to the US from Baden, in Germany in the 1850's, a stone mason, who eventually co-owned a successful building firm in post-Civil War Louisville, KY. 

I am interested in this branch of the family since it is the source of my "maternal line"; in family legend, shrouded in "fog". The main legacy of this prosperous man was a house full of rich, heavy Victorian-era furniture which may still burden members of our extended family.  I have two minor pieces: a china cabinet and an ornate magazine stand.   And some jewelry, of course--in the lock box, of course. 

His family, according to Ancestry.com, had a full history, in the towns along the Neckar River Valley of Black Forest Germany, back to the late middle ages.  Lena's family is another family history "dead end".  Ancestry.com shows her mother's name, married, (to my horror) to Lena's husband's brother Valentin!!! But Lena's last name is different from the maiden name of her mother. There is confusion in the documents over Lena's birthplace. Too confusing for this posting.

My best guess is that Lena's mother was married and had a child by a first husband; he either died young or deserted the family.  She brought this daughter to her marriage with Valentin (and they had a complete family of their own kids). Eventually, Lena married Valentin's much younger brother (who was 12 years older than Lena). Valentin, incidentally, also was active in the construction industry of Louisville, with a painting business.

The couple, with Lena as the young wife, married in 1864 and was soon expecting. Thus begins the "trail of tears" that would flow through their lives as parents.

Between 1865 and 1873, two little daughters, Emma and Carrie (Carrie was Lena's mother's name) were born and gone. We may have a photo of them, but I cannot verify.

Marie Louise came next; she lived to grow up, marry and have three children: my grandmother, a little sister and the son I have mentioned before on the blog--the one killed in the Philippines during WW2 in 1944, a hostage to fate. But, like many in those days and times, Marie was afflicted with TB, which she gave to her second daughter; they both died one summer just after the boy was born.  I believe the shadow of grief and abandonment followed my Grandmother (age about 5) all her life; perhaps passing the emotions on to her own children?? Marie's line was the only one to survive to the present.

It gets much worse: Adeline Belle, the "middle" child standing next to Lena in the photo: the beauty of the family, it seems: she got into some kind of "star-crossed romance" and took her own life by ingesting carbolic acid in 1907, according to Kentucky's death records. We know where it happened: https://www.zillow.com/homes/2314-West-Chestnut-Louisville-KY_rb/73506162_zpid/ 
Probably, the house was built by Father's company. (a grander home on Cherokee Road was still in the future.) Of course, the suicide only heightened the aire of silence and mystery among the family. 

It still gets worse:  the little girl seated survived until 1947, but was estranged from her parents in their later years. She and her line suffered divorces; the last of her grandchildren passed away in 1993, single and childless.

When we delve into Family History, even on the superficial level like mine, we have to be prepared for strange situations which were "in the past"; things those living at the time tried to conceal? I wish my Maternal Line was documented; I try to imagine the circumstances of Lena's origins or of Adeline's fate...I cannot.  I imagine that Lena and her husband may have wished they had some sons, as well.

William Faulkner and Alcohol

Joseph Blotner points out in his references that anyone--or many people--who came of age in the 1920's and during Prohibition Drank Heavily! People guzzled whenever they had the chance; made poisonous concoctions at home--not just wine and beer, but moonshine liquor and others. American women drank more alcohol in company with men than before.

So it wasn't just William Faulkner.

His family had a history of the men drinking too much. As a toddler and small child, he was given the last sips of the father or grandfather's sweet toddy drinks; he learned young.  His father occasionally had to be hospitalized to recover from a drinking binge.

And it was the same with William Faulkner. The pressures of life, an unsteady marriage, depression, loneliness or just plain boredom could send him into a tailspin (to use an aviation reference).  Perhaps a few times a year these binges would occur; a couple of times (so far as I am in the book), he would have drunk himself to death if not found in time.

His wife, Estelle, also tried to escape her demons by drinking. The story of that marriage is a completely different blog post. But with both parents' alcoholic problems, their daughter and Estelle's children by her first marriage had to deal with many an unpleasant scene.

Again: Sad even after all these decades. If a person is subject to depression, alcohol is not the remedy.

The problem affected his earning power during the many years he worked in Hollywood as a script writer for the studios; his ability to work was not reliable. But he worked on several famous Howard Hawks films, among many others.

He knew, worked with, drank with many of the most legendary figures of the publishing business in NY and the film production business in Hollywood from about 1933 until his death in 1962.

Would it have made a difference in his work if he'd had more control? We can never know.

William Faulkner loved Aviation and Flying

I'm reading this long, detailed biography of William Faulkner (by Joseph Blotner); I seem to be discussing it bit-by-bit instead of at the conclusion.

So, it's the early 1930's, Faulkner finally sells enough books and stories to afford (barely) a hobby. Obsessed by flying (as many were and still are)

he took lessons and then purchased a used plane. Other members of his family (his brothers) also became pilots. They were better at it than he was:

becoming involved in the early businesses in aviation.  And shows, barnstorming, etc.  Flying influenced much of Faulkner's early writing.

This is sad, heart breaking after 85 years: his youngest brother, the baby of the family of 4 sons, everybody's favorite family member, met a horrific

end.   After a long day of aerial exhibitions, he took some local farm kids (teenage) up to show them their farms from the air. 

What went wrong will never be known; but the plane and the people inside ended up in a grisly, smashed wreck, half buried in a farmer's field near Pontotoc, MS.

Faulkner spent a horrifying night in a bathroom: the undertaker, a bottle of whiskey, the broken body of his beloved younger brother in the bathtub, 

as they tried to make him presentable for his wife and mother to view his remains.   The effort was not successful.  The emotional PTSD: unspeakable.

Faulkner was devastated. Blamed himself. But here's the thing about his talents as a writer: Faulkner would have been capable of retelling that entire horrible episode, including the mortuary/bath tube scene, using his vernacular, oblique poetic prose; the result would likely horrify, grieve and stun the reader---and somehow be rolling in the aisle with laughter.   (Such as in the story about Mules in the Yard).  I don't know if he ever incorporated the incident into any of his fiction: probably not; the grief was real and life changing.

Probably spiraled into a bout of self destructive binge drinking?  I don't know yet.  I will read on.

Yes, Mother: We Miss and Remember You Each Day..

Photo of the original snap shot of my Mother. By the line of her dress, the time is "after the War started" when hems were shorter to conserve fabric.  The more I study the photo and the dress, my guess is that she made it; did a good job of it too.  Probably a dress she could wear to work at Kroger's food labs in Cincinnati?   Before she joined the Army.   So maybe 1942?

Off-Topic and Out of Context...

To help pass the time during the quarantine, I am reading "Faulkner-A Biography" by Joseph Blotner published in 1974, it is the "short version" of a 2 volume set published earlier. William Faulkner passed away in 1962; interest in his work was at its peak.

Once I finish reading the book, I will report.

But for now, I'm still in the first half of the author's life. It's 1926-27; he has published poems, short stories and a couple of novels. Honestly, his earliest work does not interest me; I'm just a casual reader, certainly not a student.

"Soldier's Pay"? I tried: meh. "Mosquitoes"? Good Grief, no. 

But Faulkner was an astute observer, acute, even. All his life, he would move about his little hometown, Oxford, MS, watching people. Oblivious to his surroundings, with stories and scenes taking shape in his head.  He made up stories, he wrote poems, he assembled small books of these for his friends, he was a talented artist.  He knew everybody there was to know in that small Southern town; he had worked as postmaster for the Ol' Miss post office. He knew the people in the towns of the surrounding area--white, black, rich, poor, good and bad. He knew them or he knew of them.

Suddenly, in the mid-1920's he found his voice; he realized that his little "post stamp" of territory of rich with more stories than he could write in his entire life!  He virtually "pulled his great-grandfather from the grave" (he was a writer too) and examined his life. Result: "Sartoris" (which I have read and liked). 

He was very near to the invention of the legendary locality; and his head was full of his most iconic characters: The Snopes Family.  Shelby Foote said that Faulkner's smartest and genius move was that "he named those people Snopes". 

What struck my attention: What Must the Upper-Crust of little Oxford have thought? The lawyers, the business owners, the better-off farmers? They knew Bill Faulkner and they knew he knew them. And he was using the people he knew best as Main Characters in his novels (which were beginning to sell). His own wife, his close family, extended family, his beloved childhood Nanny, anybody he happened to notice around the Square of the town; all were fodder. He was just getting started.        They must have cringed at bit--and started being extra nice to Bill and the Faulkner family??

Passing the time in Quarantine: reading and writing.

Family History Play #4--Love in the Time of Spanish Flu--1918--Another Pandemic a Century Ago

My Mother's Parents a Century Ago

After WW1, as we know, the entire world was ravished by an influenza pandemic, worse than the one we have now, since the world was recovering from a huge war, the people were weak, economies wrecked, medical science was very young compared to the current time (there was no medical support for very sick patients, no anti-bacterials, no drug therapies.) People died in the millions, all over the world.

Even in the small towns and cities in the heart of America. My Grandparents were an engaged couple: he was a young physician and she was just about to graduate from a young ladies' college in the spring of 1919--then they would be married.

In the photo, they are probably a bit older--maybe mid-twenties?

Anyway, he (being a doctor) understood there was a serious risk of contagion, illness and even death for her to remain in the school. Also, he may have been keen to get their life together started, established.  He was able to persuade her and her family for her to leave school and marry in late December, just about Christmas, of that year.  This way, he could quarantine her at his house!  

I always wondered why they married so near to Christmas. I never talked to my Grandmother about this; she passed away in 1971. But years later my Mother related the story. And it turned out that after all the years passed and he was already gone, she told Mother that she somewhat regretted not finishing her college (even though I think it was just a "light" liberal arts study, with social deportment, sewing, cooking and so on.) Well, of course she did--so she saw that all her girls finished college! And she was a life-long reader with an appreciation of art, literature, music, the domestic arts and all of that. She never worked outside the home in her life.

After my own Mother passed away in 1999, I got in touch with my Grandmother's baby half-sister, in her 80's by that time. She shared a sweet little memory (and a little scary, too): when the young couple, my Grandparents, went to the City Hall to obtain a marriage license in that cold winter of 1918, she about about 4. For whatever reason, they took her with them on the errand downtown, riding in his car--probably a Model T or similar.  As they were driving, the little girl fell out of the car onto the pavement in traffic! (The world had no idea about baby seats or seat belts at that time). She was an intrepid little person all her life, modern--so she "bounced", she laughed about it as she told me the story.  

Could they have waited and married later in 1919? Sure. Probably, she would not have gotten the flu, but who knows? What I do know: I wouldn't be here today if they had waited. Not my Mother or our entire branch of the family--since Mom was born in October of 1919. So, here's another of those cases you learn about in Family History Play: someone changes a plan, goes one way, not another---somewhere in some alternative universe or dimension maybe there is a place for results of all those "what if's", dead children, sudden world events that make us do something different???

Family History Play--Part 3 "Life and Times of a Lady"

I know I could have edited this photos with more care.  Not today... 
These are photos--part of those found by my cousin on the family home place farm--of various family member; we are in process of identifying. 

The small portrait of the little girl above is that of one of my 2nd Great Grandmothers--neighbor to the 2nd G-GM on a recent post. Apparently, she always wore her hair in the same style, pulled back.

Look at the size of her hands, even as a little child; about 1850.  And see that ring on her finger? I still have that ring, in the lock box, at the bank.  She gave it, inscribed, to her Grandson, my Grandfather--and somehow it got down to me.

Above, she stands for a photo, perhaps around the time she was married? She was a girl in her mid-teens during the Civil War on a farm in a state which had few big battles, but lots of military activity and looting by both armies. She lost a good riding horse that way, so the story goes.

Look at her hands...though she was a "lady" she worked hard in her home. A female cousin of mine--who is a professional potter--inherited hands like that. Lucky for her.    I have tiny hands, inherited from the other side of the family. They are not useful for much, I wish they were.

The gentleman shown above--one of my 2nd G-GF's--was born and grew up on the Family Home Place Farm (where we still have cousins). About 1867, he married the lady shown above. He was about 30 and she was 17. In today's world, the age difference would be troubling, but in their world it was about perfect: he was old enough, mature, able to provide for a family; she was young enough to have the long line-up of children favored in those times. His family descended from solid English gentry and even some nobility in the Middle Ages.

Get ready to weep. The little boy above was most likely their first experience with parenthood; he did not live much past his 3rd year. His little grave can be seen beside his parents' to this very day. And yes, we know his name: the next little boy born to this family group was named in his honor--my Grandfather, born 1895 to his sister who never knew him.     

Had this little fellow lived, our family history would have been quite different: he likely would have grown up to inherit and work our Home Place Farm. His little sister would have probably left the farm when she married. She might not have married the man who became my Great-Grandfather, but someone else. Which means, the current family profile would be completely different.

Time after time, in Family History Play, I find situations like this: someone is born or someone dies, someone turns one way or another? Everything changes.

So, here is the child who survived--a very pretty little girl who resembled the photo of the little boy.
I can see resemblances to current family members. I'm sure her grieving parents guarded this little girl carefully.

She turned out to be an "only child"- unusual in the late 19th Century. Her parents never had another child; I have found not evidence that they lost any other children.

Look at that pretty child. She always was a lovely girl, woman, lady. She was artistic--see how she drew a smiley face on her fan in the photo above? The family still has examples of her creativity. They sent her to the Sayre School in Lexington, where she boarded in town.  The present day Sayre School is more costly than many universities.

Her father passed away in 1899; her mother wore long black mourning dresses until she passed away in 1932--my own Mother had clear memories of that.

So Far, All is Calm, Everyone Safe---Hope You Are Too.

Family History Play-Chapter 2-Between Two Centuries, Born in Sicily, Lived and Died in Chicago

Her name was Bernadette; I know her last name but "history is personal".  She is not a direct ancestor, but a Great-Aunt.

Here is how the story goes: my Grandfather (Father's Father) was the youngest in a long line of probably adorable Sicilian children near the town of Termini-Immerse; he was born in 1885. Soon after, some of the family decided to make the move to America. Many Sicilian people from this region settled in Chicago; our family may have had friends and relations already here at that time.

Specifically, my toddler Grandfather's already grown and married sister--Bernadette, here--and her husband and maybe some kids? I don't know if his elderly parents made the trip. I don't know if both were alive. But somehow, someone or everyone thought it would be a good idea to take little Salvatore along to America. His parents were old--who was going to care for him? Other siblings? Why leave him in poor Sicily?

They arrived before Ellis Island processed immigrants. They arrived before the 1890 Census (the lost Census: burned in a fire) So it is difficult to track the family until the 1900 Census.

Did the parents come to America? Someone in the family said there is record of an unmarked grave of an elderly "Anna", somewhere in a cemetery in the western suburbs of Chicago. I have heard there was a cholera infestation in Chicago in the 1890's that killed the parents?

How many thousands of immigrants have experienced events like this? Handing off your last, toddler son to his older sister to take and raise in a distant land--a cold land? I have no idea who these extended generations of Sicilian people were; likely I never will.

Dad always assumed his Father was Italian; but when I learned that Sicily is a kind of "pan-Mediterranean/North African" island, I bought Dad an early DNA test several years before he passed away. It turned out that his paternal DNA had many geographic "clusters" on the map of Spain, around Santander. He was shocked and a little affronted to learn of these Spanish ties. Spain controlled Sicily for centuries--with military forces.

So for now, Bernadette is the "dead end" or "wall" that I have hit on this branch of the family. Most we can trace: I have two other mysterious dead ends: both on my Mother's side. Other stories for other nights.

Another Non-fiction Book Read: "Catherine de Medici" by Leonie Frieda

The mother-in-law of Mary Queen of Scots, portrayed well by Megan Follows in the TV series Reign, a romantic fantasy of the teenage years of Mary when she lived in France as well as later when she returned to Scotland. I didn't follow the series through to the conclusion.

The presentation of Catherine was superficially accurate, surprisingly.

This biography was thorough, well researched, with a useful index, scholarly---but it read like a thriller novel. Or maybe it was that the times in which this Queen of France lived were very exciting!

She was an orphan, poor little very rich girl, sponsored by a Pope. She was imprisoned in Florence during her childhood (at times in real danger). She owed her existence to King Francis I, who arranged her (soon to be dead) parents' marriage. He assented to her marriage to his son, Henri (a younger son who became King when his brother died.)  Henri was also held captive by the Holy Roman Emperor when he was a little child--a hostage.

She was not a Royal, came from Italy (the connection to Italy I seem to enjoy), was not beautiful in the eyes of the French (though she was very athletic), innovation (she introduced a proper side-saddle to the French Court so ladies could ride horses more safely and skillfully) she was a book collector and a collector of art, she encouraged architecture (though few of her projects survive).

Henri, of course, had a mistress when he married Catherine. Catherine was shunned by all. But she stayed patiently quiet, hung around the offices of her father-in-law, Francis, while the rest of them partied. She learned states craft as best she could.

Eventually Francis died, Henri became King, Catherine had 10 mostly sickly children and Henri's mistress ruled the roost. Then Henri was killed in a jousting accident--a horrible death with a shard of wood in his eye and brain. Young Francis and his wife Mary were young teenagers, just like in the TV show. Catherine had to direct them until very soon Francis died. Mary was sent back to Scotland to run amuck.

It goes on like this for Catherine for decades. She had to keep the country together for the sake of keeping whichever sickly son was next, on the throne.  She actually did have a "flying squadron" of dozens of beauties who would do her bidding as spies, etc. She believed in the occult; knew
Nostradamas. A low point was her rule in the massacre of about 30,000 French citizens (St. Bartholomew Massacre); only meant to kill a few Protestant leaders, but it got out of hand.

Amazing, horrible times. Who could have managed to do as well under her circumstances. Hard to say.  Good book, though.

A 2nd Great-Grandmother: Life of a 19th Century Lady (Adventures in Family History Play)

This portrait shows one of my 2nd Great-Grandmothers about 1860 (we all have 8 females of that relationship in our distant history); my Mother's Father's Father's Mother.  The summer of 1860 was when she married; she was 18, he was 25, a farmer with assets. She was not "too young" (for our taste) and the age spread was not very large (sometimes the husbands were 10, 15 or even 20 years older than the teenage brides--creepy in our present-day opinion). She was the oldest child in her parents' large family; when she married, her mother was still having children. 

She looks at us levelly, honestly, composed, across all the 160 years. By this time in her life, she has likely seen it all: her mother already had 10 other children; perhaps she has helped to delivers some of them. In early 1860, one little girl was born and died two months later; the first one the family had lost, amazingly. One of her little sisters, not born till 1863, I met in the last year of her life

in the mid-1950's. 

History is personal. I'm not calling her by her name, though I know it. Her photograph lay in a dusty cardboard box along with many others, newly discovered, after about 90 years. When rescued by one of my cousins, still on the home place farm, the box was in a damp outbuilding along with animal droppings. Our ancestor never in her wildest dream suspected that her photo-edited image could be electronically transmitted worldwide in 2020; there was barely electricity in her day, if at all.

There is something like a smart little rebel about her (not a political, Confederate rebel). I mean, independent, capable, not afraid of her shadow, not afraid of a dark cold night at the farm with strange noises outside. I bet she could shot a rifle if necessary. Her style looks individual--her hair flows; not bows and silly spit curls on her forehead. 

This lady's family experience echoed her mother's; she had 13 children over the next 36 years: 8 big boys and 5 girls; mostly born in the 1860's and 70's. It appears there was one little surprise boy in 1894 who did not live. Maybe the first that the family lost. The occasion may have been the motivation for these photos: First, the older parents, though he looks pretty good. He lived on till 1914. She looks "about done-in". She passed away in 1896, just 54 years old. Lots of hard work, a Civil War in the area, many deliveries, worry, concern for sick family, the steady drum beat of meal preparation, etc. (though I think she had "help" in addition to the girls.) and our spunky, spirited girl of 1860 has faded. 

We are in the process of trying to identify the subjects of these photos--using information available on Ancestry.com, US Census and other documents. Sadly, 120 years ago, no one thought to identify the photos---they all knew the names; 90 years ago, there was still a lady alive who knew them all. My great-grandfather lived until 1960.

One of these eight men is my great-grandfather: If the subjects are lined up by age, then he would be in the top photo, 2nd from the right (hand near his heart).

 But in the lower photo, "Mr. Second from the Left" looks more like photos of my handsome G-GF.

Speaking of YouTube: If I Disliked Bloomberg Before, I Detest him (tiny mike) Now.

He is cluttering up my YouTube selections with his crummy stupid lying commercials! Horrible little mean grey man with nonsense pop-up ads in the middle of my chosen content.

Snakes on his plane, please.

Self-Curated Content on YouTube: What does that mean to me? Part 3

I had to think about this topic for a few days; I was surprised.

At first, I thought I would simply list my favorite YouTubers; promote favorite videos?? No, that is not right.  My YouTube is not your YouTube; no one cares about one person's list of favorites (unless requested.)

The selections (content menus) change all the time. I don't understand this completely, but it represents flexibility in programming.

Instruction: If we would like a tutorial, we simply type in the search function the topic we want. Then receive several selections for the information we need.  I like sewing, stitching and some craft techniques: thousands of videos are "out there", some are very "niche" subjects:

A craft called "tatting"--a lace making method of olden times. I never knew anyone in person who still "tatted" (I am 71); try as I have done, I could never figure out how to make tatting from instruction manuals and photos.  After watching two or three instructional videos on YouTube, I've got it down. More important, generations of the unborn will be able to learn the skill in the future.

My current new obsession is a home improvement program "Farmhouse Vernacular": an adorable young married couple (both engineers with double engineering degrees) respectfully renovate a 1905 Kentucky farm house. They want the conveniences of today with the charm of the early 1900's. Rationally approached: planning, budgeting, sourcing tips, color theory, dogs, cats and cuteness.

Woodworking: we like to watch "Antique Furniture Restoration by Thomas Johnson" in Gorham Maine. With old-time technique and state of the art power tools, when necessary, he instructs and entertains very well. He is low-key and genuine; the New England antiques he works on end up ready to move into the next centuries. His "B-roll" is all about birds, sheep, chickens, goats and other things on this property; relaxing.

Birds: we like to watch birds around the feeder. "Cornell Lab Bird Cams" provides us with a view of their well-stocked feeding station whenever you like.  Watching this channel generates suggestions for bird feeders all around the globe....

Travel:  Live-cam bird feeders in Costa Rica! Best advertisement I can think of--big colorful birds that gulp fruit.    "ProWalks": a series of videos shot in many locations: long street journeys on foot through famous cities like Rome, Paris and London, etc. "Watched Walker" is another. "Kraig Adams" simply hikes with his drone to wonderful places, staging amazing shots of his progress.

There is Rick Steves programs, who some like.

My favorite subjects revolve around sewing: I watch this subject like others watch The Crown. I like "sewing-life" content: instruction, information, suggestions and chatter. "Kittenish Behavior", "Tom Kat Stitchery", "Inside the Hem".

In a month or tomorrow, new content will emerge or I may get tired of the ones I have enjoyed. 

News or current affairs--pick your favorites, nearly all are available. I feel better informed than, back in the old days, I depended on the "nightly news" or newspaper format.

YouTube and Me. Part 2: Self-Curated Content; what does that mean to me?

The first experience I remember with television: Spring and summer, 1953, happenings in the British Royal Family such as the death of Queen Mary and the coronation of Queen Elizabeth. I clearly remember news coverage of those events on our own TV set. I was 5 1/2 then. Before that, I remember weekly news and feature magazines like Life, Look and Saturday Evening Post. We were Post subscribers.

Ours was a family that mainly watched news programs and some evening shows my parents liked. Groucho Marx, Burns and Allen etc. You had only to choose from what was offered (it wasn't much and it was in black & white), but people liked it. My Father of the one who liked TV, Mom: not so much (so no Soap Operas or game shows).  Kids? We played outside.

Our family experienced a "TV drought" in 1959-60 when we lived in West Germany. No American TV: we listened to the radio--literally, old American radio shows like Amos and Andy. We woke up to The Breakfast Club from Cedar Rapids, IA!  Sometimes you could listen to the Russians trying to "jam" the broadcasts of Voice of America and Radio Liberty! Of course, there were music shows--from classical to brand new American Rock and Roll on Armed Forces Network.

Popular American movies were available on our base; saw most of them. Again, in college, I saw every $1 feature film shown on campus; and well into the 1970's. Maybe because I was young then, but movies today are so poorly made, it makes me sad. Why bother?

On our return to the States in 1961, I probably binged on TV for the next 5 years, through high school. But a sudden, mindful change was about to happen: when I went away to school, I vowed to myself that I would "live my own life, not let TV and popular movies live for me."  (That's what Books are for!) I never went to the TV lounge at the dorms.  That was 1966-thru the present, mainly.

It seems that "more options" became available beginning in the 1980's with video recorders, players and content available for loan or rent. Seems like yesterday.   Cable TV? the novelty came and went for me. I don't enjoy being "trapped" in other peoples' media selections; watching some packaged program.

Mostly, if you've seen this Blog, you know, I read Books. You can pick up the book and put down. If you like the content, you can finish the book. If not: put it down and donate the book.  Find another Book, read it, organize my thoughts and enter it into the record (Blog).  Self-crated content.

It Starts with "Several Years Ago, We "Cut the Cable"...". YouTube and Me: Part 1.

Separating ourselves from Cable TV seemed "edgy" at the time. We were tired of the ever increasing bills vs. the declining quality of information and entertainment available.  We can rent or borrow DVD's for movies.     Hubsy misses sports offerings somewhat, but not much.

I can't remember precisely when or how we began to lean heavily on YouTube for diversion and information: probably it was the content available during the eruption of the Hawaii volcano in 2018; we were "glued" to the reports from USGS and the stunning videos of gushing lava every evening as we ate our dinner.

We expanded our Nature viewing to other volcanoes, wildlife, undersea, etc.  This was in the days when we mainly watched together on a pretty good screen in the basement. I don't usually mind watching something Hubsy will enjoy--"togetherness, etc."

At some point, Hubsy visited relatives and Colorado for a couple of weeks; on my own, I began to shop the vast amount of content available on YouTube. I like crafts and sewing tutorials; I like to watch people refinish old furniture---but I prefer a less scripted approach than the usual "canned" presentations you see on Public TV or Cable. I like to see "real" people doing things they are passionate about, in their own way.

News, Current Events and expanded discussions!! Podcast shows! All by myself, as a little old lady in a suburban basement, I found Joe Rogan: he's edgy, many of his guests I don't care about; but when his program is interesting, I am glued to it. His podcasts are 3 hours long!  Many national and international news networks have live, 24-hour a day content. Take your pick.

Not long after that, we got a much better TV to replace an old clunker in the bedroom. A new era in entertainment, education and escapism! 

I'm shocked at how many people my age are still harnessed to "newpapers", "magazines", cable TV and so on. They either complain about it or choose to "die on that hill".      I am also aware that the Blog that I maintain is an antiquated format; only 10 years old and who reads blogs anymore??? I was not raised with a video camera in my face; I am not comfortable seeing myself on the Sam's Club video. I could never perform a YouTube!

Next time, I will reveal my favorite YouTube programs and performers, not that anyone cares because, obviously, we should all be curating our own content--as we are free to do. What a world.

End of Part 1.

Once You Start Reading about Rome, You Can't Stop. My way of saying "another Rome book"

This is not a representation of Maximinus 

I have mentioned before that I live in an area rich with "second hand", "paperback exchange" and used book stores, as well as a good public library; often, I find interesting, eclectic reading opportunities free for the picking.

Such was the case with "Maximinus Thrax--From Common Soldier to Emperor of Rome" by Paul N. Pearson. (first published by Pen & Sword Books, UK in 2016).

During the 3rd Century CE, Rome switched Emperors every few years, always a bloody mess.
This is the story of one of those.  Maximinus was not Roman. He was from Thrace (Turkey); he was a 7 to 8-ft tall young man (probably with glandular condition), super-strong; discovered by the Emperor during military games in the area. Max. was inducted into the Roman army and trained as security guard (so he was near the center of power).

It's a good story. He advanced; popular with the soldiers and concerned for their welfare. A coup made him Emperor while on campaign in Germany.  His reign was short and he never got back to Rome as Emperor.

We saw the bust in the Capitoline Museum, but was not aware of Max at that time, so no photo of him from my camera.  In the Metropolitan Museum in NY, there is an 8-ft bronze found near the ruins of his troops' barracks in Rome: the Ogre of the Met, so-called. Perhaps Max; there is some evidence.          Rome. The mysteries never cease.

"Bernini-His Life and His Rome" by Franco Mormando

I needed to learn more of the life, times and context of the greatest of the Baroque artists; this volume provided the information.

What a rollicking life: Gian Lorenzo Bernini's father was a known and respected sculpture and painter who married his mom when she was only 12 years old! We would be shocked and call the police! In those days (1600-ish): on the edge but legal and not too strange. She outlived him by decades after having many children.

Gian Loranzo worked in his father's studio and seemingly was recognized as a prodigy early on.
His was Type A before there was "Type A". Hyper energetic, driven, workaholic, hardly took time to eat--but loved to eat fruit--Bernini worked those around him as hard as he worked himself. He did not collaborate well: he took the credit for the work made by his studio. He was handsome and charming with courtly manners. Early on, he was made a Knight by the Pope.

He had a younger brother, Luigi, whose skills as an architect and stone mason were needed in the studio. But Luigi was quirky, to say the least: he had sexual peccadilloes. When Bernini figured out that Luigi was sleeping with his mistress, Costanza, he drew his sword and chased his younger brother all the way from the Vatican to Santa Maria Maggiore, mindless of passersby and the cops!! He could get away with this because he was the famous Bernini, closely allied to powerful Popes.

Much later, Luigi forced himself violently upon a young man within the confines of St. Peter's; a shocking crime. He could have been condemned to burn. Gian Lorenzo, in his 70's by then, bailed him out by providing quantities of free art for the Pope and Cardinals. 

The St. Ludovica Albertoni in Trastevere was one of the pieces. There are many other amazing stories worth reading the book to learn. Bernini's sojourn in France, for example.

Wonderful book--scholarly enough but (and I have mentioned this before) written with a modern voice to inform and entertain an ordinary reader.

Bernini was buried in Santa Maria Maggiore under a simple plaque---no elaborate tomb....but when in Rome, look around: All of Rome is his Tomb Stone.

Oh. Remember Costanza? After Bernini chased his brother through Rome with the sword, he instructed one of his retainers to take her a bottle of wine----then slash her face with a knife. After that, Costanza's husband continued to work in Bernini's studio just as before, as if nothing had happened. 

On New Year's Eve--In Bed Early and Glad to be there.....

Out of nowhere...

Visions of gardens, plans for gardens, products of gardens, flowers

Bird feeders and other signs of Spring. After all, the Sun is returning to the North.