-Saint Augustine
"Hope has two beautiful daughters; their names are Anger and Courage. Anger at the way things are, and Courage to see that they do not remain as they are."
-Saint Augustine
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Well, it was a rather crazy two weeks, between my Mum's fall & hospitalization, having to be out of town numerous days for work, spending evenings at the hospital, and taking turns staying at the homestead with my Dad. We don't like to leave him on his own for too long; he's 11 years older than my mother and starting to get a little forgetful about things like turning off the burner once he's made tea. Of course, staying down home also meant caring for their cat- a former barn cat that my parents adopted as a kitten. She's always been a bit skittish and the only people she really likes are my parents but she tolerates some of us, particularly if she's figured out that we're going to be filling her food dish. Here she is, staring at me because it's dinner time. While the hospital/homestead visits wreaked havoc with my schedule, I did get a fair bit of knitting done: almost finished two pairs of socks. Also, once my Mum was able to sit up after her surgery, we got some gaming in... I won Scrabble. The second picture is of me making my bedridden mother pick up six cards. There's no room for sentiment in Uno. I took last Monday off of work to stay with my dad and spent it doing laundry and cooking some meals to refrigerate/freeze ahead. I also did some baking because Dad has a sweet tooth, though he denies it... he'd already got into the apple cobbler before I left. The muffins are apple cranberry; they're a little browner than they should be because I went downstairs to put clothes in the dryer while they were baking and forgot that my parents' oven runs hot- when its dial is on 350 degrees, it's actually somewhat more than that. But they still tasted fine. Not wanting to waste anything, I tossed the apple peels from the cobbler and muffins with cinnamon sugar, spread them on a cookie sheet and baked them as well, making apple peel crisps. My Mum was able to get up and down the hallway at the hospital with a walker by Friday afternoon so they released her, which was a relief for everyone- especially her. One of my sisters came down Thursday night from New Brunswick with a few of her kids to stay for a week's visit and help out at the homestead, so they're there at the moment. After that, we'll figure it out... Mum's supposed to use the walker for six to eight weeks, so will still need help around the house for a bit. I and two other sisters also popped down on Saturday morning to shovel the driveway and tidy the house because we were having my brother-in-law's birthday party there on Sunday afternoon following church. It was nice, though, to actually go home after work on Friday and have a proper supper. While Mum was in the hospital I was leaving work every night, grabbing fast food, and heading down there to spend time with her. Friday evening I went home and made chili which hit the spot because it was a cold, snowy night. Chances are I'm going to be spending some more days and/or nights down at the homestead with my parents. If so, I think I'll take one of the puzzles I have that I haven't done, either the one from this Christmas- with a Jane Austen theme - or a Casablanca one I got a few years ago as a gift and have never opened: In any case, things seem to be settling down a bit so hopefully life will be back to normal soon- or at least, as normal as it ever is! Related Posts: I regret to inform you that the Canadian government is at it again. Really, C.S. Lewis could have been looking into a crystal ball at future Canada when he railed about "moral busybodies" endlessly tormenting everyone else for their own "good". Not content with destroying nearly every institution in this country, Trudeau's evil empire has now set its sights on despoiling one of Canada's most successful exports: Anne of Green Gables. What is the red-haired orphan's crime, you ask? The unforgivable in progressive circles: she's just too white. I've often spoke of how many of L.M. Montgomery's fictional works I read in my formative years- not just the Anne series, but many of her other novels and short stories as well. The Blue Castle, The Story Girl, and Jane of Lantern Hill were particular favourites. And the last book in the Anne collection- Rilla of Ingleside- which is set during World War I is probably the best of that series. I've also visited Green Gables on Prince Edward Island numerous times, been to L.M. Montgomery's grave site, seen the musical twice, and am going to the Anne ballet in April. And of course, I've also seen the Anne of Green Gables mini-series and it's sequel starring Meghan Follows (don't watch the third one; it's bad and doesn't count). You know what I've never thought of in all of that watching and reading? The colour of Anne Shirley's skin. Anne Shirley is a popular character because many can identify or empathize with her character: a neglected, unwanted orphan who is so lonely that she talks to an imaginary girl (her reflection) who's her only friend. Then, through a fortuitous mistake, she gets a chance at a new home and new life with people who take her in, care for her, and grow to love her- quirks and all. This is what normal people see in the character of Anne- an imaginative, irrepressible optimist despite her misfortunes, an unwanted misfit who finds love and acceptance in her new family and community. But our betters, the progressives, see only one thing: Anne and her new family and friends are white. This is the one thing these malcontents have in common with Anne- she hates her red hair and so do they. Of course, she does so because she thinks it's ugly, while they resent it because it is a symbol of what this homeless orphan has benefitted from... white privilege (cue the ominous music). Of course, the entertainment world already took a swing at destroying L.M. Montgomery's most famous work: a joint production of Mammon and Beelzebub, a.k.a. Netflix and the CBC. No surprise there; the Canadian Broadcasting Cartel... er... Corporation delights in gobbling up our tax dollars and producing crap which makes a mockery of anything every day Canadians might take pride in or enjoy- such as the family-friendly works of an internationally famous Canadian author. This version of "Anne", so-called, would have you believe that the white rural hicks of Avonlea, PEI were a bunch of sinister racist bigots. Also, there apparently was- in Victorian era, very Presbyterian- Charlottetown, a large, out and proud, swinging gay & lesbian community headed up by Diana's Aunt Josephine. As you can imagine, the critics loved this foolishness but everyone who is a fan of the original work (or you know, history) hated and avoided it like a case of the clap... which it wouldn't surprise me to learn that half of the characters in this travesty had. This trash was finally cancelled after three stupid and scarcely viewed seasons and good riddance to bad rubbish, say I. Which brings us to the latest debacle; this year marks L.M. Montgomery's 150th birthday and naturally the government couldn't let the occasion go by without pausing to spit on her legacy. They have now decided that Montgomery's 1908 novel, set on rural P.E.I., is not diverse enough: "Federal commemoration of Anne Of Green Gables will be reworked with “new narratives” from Indigenous, Black and French perspectives, says @ParksCanada " Of course it will. Never mind that Montgomery was writing Anne based largely on her own childhood experiences; her mother died when she was a year old and her father gave baby Lucy Maud to her grandparents to raise in Cavendish P.E.I. and he eventually left the province for the North West Territories. Lucy Maud, like Anne, had a lonely childhood which she made more bearable by conjuring up a number of imaginary friends. One would think that the government, led by self-declared super feminist Trudeau, would want to amplify this woman's voice, but no- on the oppression pyramid, white women fall below persons of colour. This means that Montgomery's actual truth must take a knee to progressives' fantasy "truths". And fantasy (otherwise known as lies) is what these "new narratives" are. Were there French on the Island back in the day? Yes, though not nearly as many after the expulsion of the Acadians. Were there some indigenous people? Yes but again, not that many. And most did not maintain permanent residences on the Island: they would travel over to hunt, and to plant some crops in the warmer months, then return to the mainland to winter. Very sensible. Even today, the native population on PEI is less than 2%. The fact is, Prince Edward Island has the second most racially homogeneous population of any province in Canada, surpassed only by Newfoundland. Around 90% of the residents are of English/Scottish/Irish decent. There are very few visible minorities, and the largest group of those are Asians. Which makes the government trying to work a Black perspective into Anne of Green Gables particularly weird. The black population on P.E.I. even now is so small as to be statistically non-existent. One of my brothers-in-law grew up on the Island, and he never saw a black person in person until his family moved to Nova Scotia when he was a teen. So while L.M. Montgomery would no doubt have seen a native on occasion, and run across some French, it's doubtful that they would have interacted to any great degree. And it's extremely unlikely that she would been acquainted with any black people during her childhood. So all this drivel about "Indigenous, Black and French perspectives" needing to be shoehorned into Montgomery's fiction is just that- drivel. We really need to get rid of this pernicious notion that someone must "see" themself in a book they're reading or movie they're watching in order to enjoy it or be enriched by it. As a child, I'd guess that I read more books with male protagonists than female ones. Yes, I read the Little House On The Prairie books, Heidi (and it's sequels), The Wonderful Wizard of Oz, and obviously, Anne of Green Gables, but I also immersed myself in the worlds of the Chronicles of Prydain, Tom Sawyer and Huckleberry Finn, Kidnapped, Treasure Island, Tom Brown's School Days, Ben Hur, The Hobbit... the list goes on. One book I enjoyed and read a number of times in elementary school was King Of The Wind, in which the protagonist is a mute 18th century Moroccan stableboy. Not a character with whom I had a lot in common, but that did nothing to impede my enjoyment of the story. In fact, it made me look up Morocco in an encyclopedia- they were a thing- to see where it was and learn something about it. One of the reasons we read books is to be transported to different places and different times and encounter different people from all walks of life. How narcissistic and narrowminded to declare that every book must reflect your person- race, sex, and modern ideals- and that you can have nothing to learn from characters who do not look, think, or act like you. Now if that's all someone wishes to read, well, I find that silly, but each to their own; what people choose to read is not my business. Unfortunately however, often instead of telling their own stories with their own characters, the people who insist on being seen in their reading material decide to insert themselves into existing works of fiction, twisting the plots and characters into barely recognizable caricatures of the authors' original works. Then, inevitably, when fans of the original erupt over this intentional mangling of a book they love, the progressives start in with remarks such as, "Oh, so you only want white people in your books, racist," or "Why do you care so much?" People care because they love the characters in their favourite novels as they are written, whoever or whatever they are. People care because these progressive malcontents, who are quick to screech 'cultural appropriation' at white people sporting braids, have no problem absconding with other peoples' work and twisting it to suit their own purposes. But it has nothing to do with ethnicity or skin colour; I don't want Sherlock Holmes to be rewritten as a Rastafarian because that's not who he is. Nor do I want Agba (the boy in King of the Wind) to be changed into an Australian rugby player because- again- that's not who he is. Enough with this needing to feel seen nonsense: you don't have to be a horse to appreciate Black Beauty. Related Posts:I'm currently writing an opinion post on the Fed's latest announcement about how they're going to "fix" Lucy Maud Montgomery's Anne of Green Gables in honour of the author's 150th birthday. You can probably guess how enthusiastic I am about that. Unfortunately, family events (my Mum fell on ice and is in the hospital) rather derailed everything in the last few days, so the post still unfinished. I have, however, written extensively about one of my favourite novels by Montgomery- The Blue Castle. Here are the posts on that book:
On the topic of my online book club reads, I finished our latest assigned book, Flannery O'Connor's The Violent Bear It Away. I described the start of it a while back, and finished reading it over the Christmas holidays. I won't go into further detail at the moment other than to say that I hated it, pretty much from start to finish. I despised almost every character in it and was repelled by their actions. I forced myself to finish the novel but did not enjoy the experience. I don't think that I'll be picking up any more fiction by O'Connor anytime soon. On a happier note, I was recently on a short trip with my sister and her family and on the drive we were listening to an audiobook of The Code Of The Woosters. It did my heart good to hear the nephews chortling over the shenanigans of Bertie, Stiffy, Gussie, etc., with the missing notebook, the policeman's hat, and the silver cow creamer. And their delight at Bertie getting the best of Roderick Spode. It really is a brilliant book, and such a palate cleanser after reading a distasteful piece of fiction. Related Posts:My new niece arrived near dawn yesterday morning during a snowstorm- ten days after her due date, at a hefty 9 lb 6 oz. How cute is this kid? The current count stands at 16 nephews and 14 nieces so the boys are still in the lead, but not by much. On Sunday afternoon I was holding her one year old cousin who was getting a bit sleepy post-lunch, and sang a few different lullabies to her as she snuggled on my shoulder, one of them being Simple Gifts. Simple Gifts is a song which dates back to around 1848, when it was composed by a Shaker: Elder Joseph Brackett. The Shakers, for those not in the know, were a religious sect which originated in England but soon made its way to the States where they founded numerous communities. The Shakers were an offshoot of the Quakers, only with a much more ah, frenetic worship style. Due to this they were often referred to as the "Shaking Quakers" or just "Shakers". Like the Quakers, they were pacifists; unlike the Quakers, they believed that everyone must remain celibate. Which probably explains why there are still Quakers about, but no Shakers... universal celibacy seems unlikely to result in cultural longevity. But they did make nice furniture. In any case, Brackett wrote the song, apparently intending it to be used as a "quick dance": the various turns in the verse are dance instructions, to bring the participants back "round right". Given their commitment to celibacy, one would think the Shakers would share the Baptist suspicion of social dancing, but apparently not. Brackett's dance tune and lyrics might have disappeared with the Shakers if American composer Aaron Copland hadn't come across it and decided to use it as the basis for a score he was writing for a ballet entitled Appalachian Spring (performed in 1944). Of course, Joseph Brackett had actually written the song in Maine, but there were Shaker communities in the Appalachians- specifically near Holy Mount- which no doubt also used Simple Gifts. Copland's score got glowing reviews and he later reused the song in a 1950 collection of his arrangements entitled Old American Songs. After this, Simple Gifts became quite well known to the general public. Here's a version of it by Alison Krauss: Having sung Simple Gifts for so long as a lullaby, it's hard for me to think of it as a dance tune, until I remember that folksong writer Sydney Carter wrote Lord Of The Dance based on its melody in 1963, and that's certainly a lively dance tune... just ask Michael Flatley. Here's one of my favourite versions of it, by the Ennis Sisters: And, just for fun, here's an arrangement of the two songs put together: Related Posts:For the family gift exchange, I had one of my sisters and her family. I sewed a hockey-themed pillowcase for each of the four boys, then went to a used bookstore and loaded up on books for them, because all four of them are prodigious readers. For the eldest- who is 15- I got four novels: The Time Machine by HG Wells, If We Survive by Andrew Klavan, The Picture of Dorian Gray by Oscar Wilde, and The Giver by Lois Lowry. For the second nephew- 13- I got Hatchet by Gary Paulsen, Blue Fin by Colin Thiele, The Whispering Mountain by Joan Aiken, and I Am David by Anne Holm. For nephew #3 (10) I purchased Jacob Have I Loved by Katherine Paterson, The Upstairs Room by Joanna Reis, Wild Life by Cynthia DeFelice, and The Wizard In The Tree By Lloyd Alexander. And for the fourth nephew (7), I got The Vicious Vikings by Terry Deary, The Adventures Of Robin Hood retold from Howard Pyle's original work, Owls In The Family by Farley Mowat, and A Child's Christmas In Wales by Dylan Thomas. For my sister and brother-in-law, I ordered two books: Dominion by Tom Holland, and The Truth And Beauty by Andrew Klavan. I personally enjoyed both of these books a good deal and regard them as very complementary works. I think that they'll enjoy them as well. I also sewed this wall hanging for which I purchased a winter scene panel then cut it up, adding black sashing to make it seem like you're looking through a window. It wasn't quite finished in time, so I wrapped it up and gave it to them, then took it back afterwards to do a bit more stitching on. Related Posts:One of the gifts I got for Christmas was a ticket to Anne Of Green Gables: The Ballet. Something to look forward to in April. I've seen Anne Of Green Gables: The Musical a couple of times while visiting PEI, but never the ballet... it should be a good time; two of my sisters also have tickets. I'd had Anne Of Green Gables read to me at a young age- and eventually read it and its sequels myself. My first experience of the musical was, however, in grade four when I joined choir. In the spring concert we performed a bit of the play (the slate breaking scene) and sang one of the songs from it: Anne of Green Gables (never change). I auditioned for the part of Anne, who sang a solo as well as got to smash a slate over Gilbert's head. The field was narrowed down to me and one other girl, but she got the part because, as our music teacher explained pragmatically, she was a natural red head and wouldn't need a wig (which we didn't have). It was a bitter moment but I had to acknowledge the practicality of this decision, especially since she sang the part at least as well as I and, admittedly, was a dead ringer for every depiction of Anne I'd seen up to that time. So I was one of the six back up singers/school kids which was no doubt a better fit for me; I'm always more comfortable singing (alto) in a group than by myself. Here's a trailer for the musical: It is not, to be sure, even close to being one of my favourite musicals but really it's the nostalgia factor which makes me enjoy it whenever I see it. And it does have a very catchy song about ice cream: Related Posts: I know I've been MIA for a bit but in my defense, there were reasons. To begin with, there was obviously the hectic Christmas season followed by New Years, which for my family is a big deal. A lot of us gathered at the homestead for New Years Eve for our annual board games 'til midnight. Then almost all of the family travelled down to the Valley for New Years Day dinner and festivities; this is also when we do the family gift exchange. For New Years dinner, I baked a ham and made one of the desserts- a flan. The gift exchange was a riotous event (more on that later) and everyone had a great time, eating, laughing, and talking. The best way to see in a new year is with the people you love- the people who will be standing with you whatever this new year brings, for good or ill. No sooner was this over than it was time to start wedding preparations for my eldest niece's wedding. For reasons best known to themselves, she and her fiance had decided to get married at a venue in the backwoods of New Brunswick on January 4th. A Thursday. I had been asked to help with set up and to make dessert trays, so this necessitated taking three days off work- fortunately I had some unused vacation days I could carry over- and traveling out of province. We took my sister's van since we were traveling as a group- I and two of my sisters, our parents, and two young nephews. Their parents- another sister and her husband- weren't going to the wedding because her new baby was due on the 5th and she obviously wasn't going to chance getting stuck in NB and going into labour there. But their four boys wanted to attend, so the older two went with some other family members who were traveling up, and the younger two came with us. My sister still hasn't had the baby, but better safe than sorry. For the dessert trays I made brownies, lemon squares, and shortbread cookies (seen below). One of our brothers and his family live near Moncton, so we dropped our parents off there to spend the night on Wednesday and picked up the other two nephews and went to the hotel where we had reserved two rooms- one for the four nephews and one across the hall for the three of us. It was rather late when we arrived there (we had stayed talking at my brother's place for quite some time) so we basically just got the boys squared away in their room- the eldest is 15 so they were fine on their own, with one of our cell phones in case they needed us- then got settled in our room. After breakfast the next morning- the boys loved making their own waffles- we made our way out to the venue, which was a refurbished barn about half an hour outside of Moncton. Here we are arriving to help with set up: Partial set-up: Frankly, it was a little too sparce and warehouse-y for my taste- give me a nice church wedding any day- but the grounds were lovely, with all the snow covered trees: The pictures which they took outside will no doubt be beautiful, though the bridesmaids, all in sleeveless dresses, nearly froze to death standing about out there for ages. They put hot pockets (the hand warmers, not the pizza bites) on the adirondack chairs seen here for the girls to use in between shots, but those were of very limited benefit. My niece: While the wedding party was prancing about outside, we were setting up for the reception: The reception went off mostly without a hitch, though by halfway through I confess I was tired of it; I love my niece but I mostly hate receptions, and frankly, the speeches by the groomsmen were worse than usual. I mean, I get that not everyone can write and deliver a classy and coherent speech, but they've known about this for literally months; surely they could manage to pull something together that doesn't sound as though they wrote a few scattered thoughts on a piece of toilet paper in the washroom five minutes before the reception started. But maybe I was just tired and cranky by that point. In any case, I wasn't alone in being about done; I looked up at the balcony and saw a trio of young nephews: They were very obviously done in and, after a quick consultation with my sisters, it was decided (I volunteered) that I'd take the three young'uns back to the hotel while they remained there with the older two nephews who wanted to stay for at least part of the dance, mostly to hang out with some of their other cousins. I happily made my escape out into the crisp night air: I must say, the lads perked right up when I took them down to the hotel pool for a swim when we got back: Afterwards, I let them watch part of the hockey game and snack in my room until the rest of the crew got back. By then it was too late to drive the extra cousin back to my brother's place (where his family was also staying) so he ended up spending the night. In the morning my brother-in-law came over to pick him up but brought two of his other kids as well, so they could all have a swim (mostly because they were up and making noise while everyone else was still abed). A good time was had by all at the pool, then it was time to pack up and check out, and go to my brother's place for lunch. My sister-in-law had chili and cornbread, as well as two different types of soup served with sourdough bread. Perfect meals for a crowd. Then it was time to hit the road; since we were in no great hurry to get back, we stopped to see a few sights: these gigantic nutcrackers which were out in front of a farm had to be about 12 ft tall. We made our traditional stop to see the Oxford blueberry: And no trip back from New Brunswick is complete without a stop for ice cream at the Masstown Market, despite it being -10 degrees outside. After that, though, three days of constant activity and late nights caught up with the lads: Fortunately the weather held- we didn't get any more snow until Sunday night- so the roads were clear, and the views from the highway were really beautiful: What with our frequent stops, and delivering our nephews- and our parents- back to their respective abodes, it was rather late when we got to my sisters' place (they share a house) so I ended up crashing there for the night. It was around noon on Saturday before I got home, whereupon I found to my dismay that my laptop had, in my absence, decided to crap out. I tried various fixes including resetting it, but nothing worked and it was old enough that paying to get it fixed would cost more than it was worth. Sunday I had church of course, and as it was the first Sunday of the month, a potluck as well (I made homemade mac & cheese) so didn't end up going down to the homestead for family dinner. After I got home I did some research, checked out what was still on sale post-boxing week, and ordered a new laptop online which I picked up after work yesterday. All this is by way of an explanation for why I have been mostly offline for the past two weeks, but I should be able to get back on track now that the wedding is done with and I have a functioning computer. On the topic of weddings, may I recommend the 1951 film Here Comes The Groom, a Frank Capra movie which stars Bing Crosby and Jane Wyman. It's a really fun little movie set post- W.W. II. Crosby is Pete, an American war correspondent who has, since the war ended, been working with an orphanage in Paris to help find homes for war orphans. He's become quite attached to two of the little tykes and wants to adopt them himself but can only do so if he's married, or going to get married. Whereupon he remembers Emmadel, the girl he left behind him (at the altar) when he went overseas. He reflects that it's really time he returned home and married the girl. So he packs up the two orphans- Bobby and Suzi- and heads back to Boston with warning from the authorities that he must be married within five days of arriving, or the adoption will be voided. Which, he thinks, won't be a problem. To his surprise and dismay, he finds that Emmadel has become sick of waiting for him to stop gallivanting and has got engaged to a wealthy man- Wilbur Stanley- from an old Bostonian family. Determined to win her back, Pete parks the kids with Emmadel's parents; her father is a fisherman who is very solidly in favour of him busting up the engagement. Pete manages to enveigle his way into an invite to stay on the Stanley estate and discovers that Wilber has a distant cousin (Winnifred) who has been in love with him forever, but is too shy and socially awkward to do anything about it. Pete offers to coach her, Pygmalion style, and help her attract Wilbur's notice which- he schemes- will help him get back Emmadel. Shenanigans ensue, including a knock down, drag out brawl between Emmadel and Winnifred at the wedding rehearsal. It really is a cute, funny film, and the song In The Cool, Cool, Cool Of The Evening in it (by one of my faves, Hoagy Carmichael) won the Academy Award for best song: |
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