The primordial forests
That once covered this continent
East of the Mississippi
Were cut down
And made into paper
Which is now in a pile
On my desk
All of it.
–Dan Verner
Category Archives: Uncategorized
The Continuing No Shame Poetry Series Presents "Canopy"
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Advice for Writers–Yet Another Metaphor for Writing
This metaphor doesn’t come from me, but rather from Elizabeth Haugen, the pastor of Washington Plaza Baptist Church in Reston. She compare writing to running a marathon.
I was a runner, once, in my twenties and thirties, although walking for exercise is now more my style. I actually ran in a race, a 10K in which I came in dead last. I was never fast, but I was tenacious.
Enjoy Elizabeth’s post, “Like Running a Marathon…Writing a Book,” at http://preacherontheplaza.wordpress.com/2012/07/09/like-running-a-marathon-writing-a-book/
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Huh?
Yes, yes, I know I said I was going to write on technology and society on Wednesdays, but sometimes things come up. And I lied.
OK, try this. I am presently going through a list of Nine Things that Will Disappear in (Your, My, Our) Lifetime(s). So far I have reflected on checks and privacy (I think). Anyhow, I came across another list so this post is related in that it pertains to a list. So I hope that makes a difference. If you have complaints, please send them to:
Harrison Bergeron, Blogmaster
Biscuit City Productions
Biscuit City VA 20007.3
The list is from a Kiplinger magazine article on “Seven Things Worth Splurging On.” Here’s a link if you don’t believe that I am not making this up. And it has pictures in case you have never seen something like a watch: http://money.msn.com/shopping-deals/7-things-worth-splurging-on-kiplinger.aspx?cp-documentid=250086734
(An aside here: Isn’t “splurge” a funny word? I think so. I hope you do, too.)
So, the seven things are:
1. A kitchen renovation. Agreed. We had ours redone about three years ago and we love it love it love it. Sometimes I walk into the kitchen and think I’m in another house. Then I forget what I came in for. Usually, it’s to eat something, so that narrows it down.
2. Apple stock. $610 a share. If I invested directly in the stock market, maybe. But we have our investments through an investment counselor. I have no idea what they are. We meet with him and he shows us colorful graphs and charts, and I still have no idea what is going on. A financial genius I am not, other than to tell you, “Buy low, sell high.” There. Who says blogs are useless?
3. Non-Stop Flights. It says they save time and money. No duh. You can fly directly to Atlanta in about an hour and a half or you can take a two-stop through Cleveland and Orlando and take all day. Your choice, Sparky.
4. A Digital SLR Camera. Sure. Why not? I take lousy pictures, and I’m sure they would be lousy if I used said digital SLR camera or my Kodak Instamatic.
5. An American Express Premier Rewards Gold Card. C’mon now. I have so many credit cards now I’m not even sure what they are. I need another one about like a hole in the head, Gold Rewards or Golden Calf or whatever.
6. A Cartier Watch worth $4650. No, thanks. I like my $29.95 Timex. The Cartier is supposed to last a lifetime. I calculate I can by 155 Timexes the price of one Cartier. If the Timex lasts only a year (and they last four or five years), I would be 219 years old by the time I made up the price of the Cartier.
7. Prix Fixe Fine Dining. Sure would, if I could find a place within 200 miles of where I live that offers such a thing. In the meantime, we have coupons for Red, Hot and Blue.
I know, I sound like a cheapskate. I am. And I have my own indulgences, including guitars that are worth the equivalent of three Cartier watches. But you can’t play “Stairway to Heaven” on a watch. I’ve tried and it doesn’t work.
But you indulge yourself however you want. You work hard, and you’ve earned it.
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The Biscuit City Chronicles–Digging to China
I saw a while back that Google Earth had added a new feature that allows users to dig a virtual hole from any spot on earth and see where they would come out on the other side. This reminded me of a popular belief when we were kids that if you dug a hole straight through the earth, you’d end up in China. Somehow, this benighted idea included everyone and everything being upside down on the other side of the earth.
Now, I don’t think we were especially stupid or even in the magical stage of cognitive development, but a few minutes with a globe and recall of the facts of gravity would have shown us just how dumb these ideas were. And we weren’t little kids at the time. I remember being about ten years old and thinking this.
For the record, if we were to dig straight through the earth from this location, we’d end up in the ocean somewhere south-south-west of Australia. To come up in China, you’d have to start in Argentina. Not that we let facts get in our way.
One of our favorite places to play was a large vacant lot a couple of houses down from my house. We met there and played all kinds of games, mostly involving throwing things at each other. And of course at some point we decided to dig to China. This quest was made more difficult since none of us had a shovel and had no chance of borrowing one from a tool shed and carrying it down the street for several blocks. Kids couldn’t get away with anything in those days. If our parents didn’t see us, a neighbor would, and come out, take the shovel away and tell our parents we were up to no good. When we got home, our parents would grill us about why we had a shovel and what we were going to do with it. The conversation would go something like this:
Parent: Mrs. Smith said she saw you walking down the street with a shovel this afternoon.
Kid: (under breath) Well, she’s a nosy old bat, isn’t she?
Parent: Excuse me?
Kid: I said, it was just like that…
Parent: What were you going to do with a shovel?
Kid: Dig a hole.
Parent: Why?
Kid: (under breath) We wanted to dig down to China.
Parent: Where?
Kid: China.
Parent: Well, since you have so much energy, you can dig the weeds in the garden…
So, knowing how this would play out, we were reduced to using a couple of old serving spoons we had found for our excavation. We started digging in the rock hard clay soil characteristic of this area under a blazing sun and actually worked for a couple of hours. By that time we had a hole about a foot and a half in diameter and six inches deep. I thought it was quite an accomplishment for a couple of kids with spoons. By then it was time to eat, and somehow we never got back to our hole to China.
I’m sure there were other absurd beliefs that we cherished, but about the only other one I can recall is the idea that, given the right kind of cape, I could fly like Superman. I adopted the usual expedient of tying a bath towel around my neck and jumping off the front porch. I didn’t achieve anything near flight. I was discouraged from this feat until I saw (on the back of a carrot bag, strangely enough) an ad for a “real flying cape.” This was apparently before the days of truth in advertising. I sent off my quarter and a few weeks later received in the mail a cape made of thin plastic that would have been red if it had been thick enough. I gleefully tied it around my neck and climbed to the top of our shed in the back yard. Flight was just an instant away. I could fly to China! No need to put all that effort into digging! I took a deep breath and launched myself into the air and landed on my feet with a thud. It really hurt and although I was on the short side to begin with, I was even shorter after my jump. I threw the cape down in disgust and gave up on the idea of trying to fly.
Maybe we as kids had a kind of underlying interest in other cultures and took China as someplace exotic and different. We were fed a steady diet of adventure stories—tales about Admiral Byrd and Charles Lindberg and Amelia Earhart and Chuck Yeager—and I believe we saw going to China as an adventure. I was thinking of digging to China the other day when it occurred to me that in this area we are surrounded by people from all over the world. So we don’t have to dig to China. China has come to us.
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Story of a Patriot, Story of a Teacher
We were saddened this past week to learn of the deaths of two friends, Gayden Morrill, who lived in Williamsburg, and Suzie Shaw, of Manassas.
We knew Gayden and Nancy Morrill when they lived in Manassas and attended our church. When Suzie taught English at Osbourn High School, she had both our daughters in class.
Gayden and Suzie were both fine people whom we will miss.
Gayden and Nancy were possibly two of the most gracious people I have ever known. He worked for the C.I.A., one of a number of operatives who seemed to gravitate to our church. They knew each other from other duty stations but would only say that they were “civilian employees of the Defense Department.” They couldn’t say much about what they did, but I gathered enough information from other sources to know that their work kept us safe from dire threats to our nation. He always had a smile and a kind word to say.
Gayden also coached Little League, served for nine years as a Boy Scout leader, and served the Lions Club International for forty-four years. When he retired with Nancy to Williamsburg, he enjoyed leading tours of Colonial Williamsburg, Jamestown and Yorktown. He enjoyed historic preservation, furniture refinishing and restoration, gardening, and art. He and Nancy traveled extensively in retirement.
Gayden was diagnosed with ALS a short while ago and declined rapidly. Patriot that he was, it was perhaps fitting that he passed away on July 4. Godspeed, Gayden Morrill and love and comfort to your family and friends in your passing.
In lieu of flowers, contributions will be accepted in Gayden’s memory by the Mayor Gayden W. Morrill Charitable Foundation of Newburyport, in care of Mr. James Kory Wilson at Fidelity Investments, 1900 K Street Northwest, #110, Washington, DC 20006. Online condolences may be expressed at www.nelsencares.com.
***
Teachers can tell when other teachers are the real deal, and Suzie Shaw, whose funeral service is today, was the real deal. She brought incredible energy and humor to her work, and her love for her young charges was evident. Amy and Alyssa shared with me what they were doing in English class, and I knew that the class was what it should have been because Suzie did things the way that I would have! When Alyssa got into a spat with a young man in her class, Suzie was perturbed, but administered justice with a twinkle in her eye.
She taught for Prince William County and the City of Manassas for 33 years, winning the Agnes Meyer Outstanding Teacher Award sponsored by the Washington Post in 1987. She also taught for Strayer University after her retirement. We would come across her at intermission and after concerts at the Hylton Performing Arts Center these past couple of years and she always asked about our girls.
Suzie’s service is this afternoon at 2 PM at Grace United Methodist Church on Wellington Road in Manassas.
In lieu of flowers, donations may be made to the Susan K. Shaw Memorial Scholarship Fund at Wells Fargo, 155 Broadview Ave., Warrenton, VA 20186. The scholarship will be awarded yearly to a graduating senior from Osbourn High School, Manassas, VA.
Our family was richer for knowing Suzie, and generations were blessed by her knowledge and care. And so she has run the race and we wish for her rest and a well-earned eternal reward. Good-bye, Suzie. You made a difference in so many lives.
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The Continuing No Shame Poetry Series Presents "Book Review"
Book Review
I see that John Grisham has a new book,
Calico Joe, about a baseball player who
Disappears suddenly one day.
I would like to read it
Since I like John Grisham
And I like baseball.
The title, however, made me think
That the book was about a horse or a dog
Since “Calico Joe” does not sound like a name
For a baseball player. “Shoeless Joe” and
“The Bambino” and “The Splendid Splinter,”
sound like names for ball players and indeed they are
But “Calico Joe?” Why not “Gingham Fred”
Or “Cotton/Polyester Blend Barney?”
I think you see my point.
I remember reading books about animals
When I was a lad.
I especially liked Black Beauty which is
About a horse
And one called Beautiful Joe
About an exceptionally ugly dog
Beloved by children.
Even as a child, I understood the
Post-ironic nature of the dog’s name
That he was a beautiful soul
In spite of his physical appearance.
I think that was an important early lesson to me
And I try not to judge on appearances
Although it’s hard not to do so
And so, I cannot tell you about the book
Calico Joe because I have not read it
And although I don’t like the title
Because it is about baseball and by John Grisham
I just bet that
It is a good book.
–Dan Verner
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Advice for Writers–Better by Half
Sometimes, revision means discarding a particular word that doesn’t “ring” and finding one that does. Other times it might mean going through and looking for passive voice. Or the same words used in close promixity to each other. I wrote something recently and used the word “personal” three times within two sentences. Sometimes I can substitute a synonym. Sometimes I have to reconstruct the sentence(s). All these things come about when I am throwing down a first draft. Just get it down and fix it later.
For this post, I want to consider cutting parts of writing. I know, none of us wants to discard a single precious word that flows from the ends of our fingers (or however else you might produce writing–I don’t want to limit anyone here). Most of the time, though, making something shorter makes it better.
I have had the good fortune to write a column for two local papers in the past four years, and typically, those columns run to about 750 words. I can write more, but I don’t want to irritate my editor by forcing her to rework a piece to make it shorter. That’s my job. You probably recall the inverted triangle (pyramid) structure of a news story. Important stuff in the lead paragraph (but punch it up!), other stuff in order of decreasing importance. That’s so if the poor longsuffering editors needs to cut your deathless prose, they can lop it off at the end with little lost. Columns, not so much since the last sentence where I put wisdom of the ages (or a really weak pun, whatever).
So, I had a story I had written a few years ago and had never published. Yes, I sometimes write things for the fun of writing them. I know that’s an odd practice. This wonderful story ran to 1500 words, and I needed to cut it down to 750 for the column.
My practice is first to go through and eliminate paragraphs that can depart. There are usually two or three.
Next, I see if I can cut out some of the dialogue. I like to use dialogue because it speaks to me (there’s your weak pun!).
Then, I chop out sentences that would enjoy a respite.
And finally, we get down to it when I cut out words that aren’t necessary.
That’s how I cut the story in half. Actually, it took longer to edit the column down to size than it would have to write a fresh one. But I liked the approach and message of a piece and it’s worth taking the time to make it right and to make it shorter.
And that’s the long and short of it.
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The Land of the Free and the Home of the Brave
I have been thinking lately about our national anthem as I tend to do on patriotic holidays. I had a close encounter with the song recently when I had to sing it for an audition for a choir festival in August. A capella. Since my singing voice spans (if that’s the right word) an octave and a fourth and the anthem requires an octave and a half, there was a fallacy involved in my even attempting the song. With the help of a well-practiced falsetto I must have done all right since I was accepted. Or maybe they were desperate for tenors.
A while back “The Star Spangled Banner” had a bad rap as being difficult to sing. Garrison Keillor thinks that this has more to do with the key it’s usually set in (Bb) than the range and advocates pitching it in G. (I can’t sing that low. It’s just sad.) We really don’t hear much about the difficulty of the song any more and it is sung frequently these days, which is good. It is a stirring and memorable piece.
I think most people have heard the story of how the lyrics were written as a poem by lawyer and amateur poet Francis Scott Key as he observed the bombardment of Fort McHenry in Baltimore in 1814. The poem was entitled “Defence of Fort McHenry” and has four verses. It was set to the tune of a British drinking song at the time “To Anacreon in Heaven.” Such an irony may seem strange to us, but it was common practice at the time. Even hymn writers used drinking songs and other popular melodies since people knew them. The saying, “Why should the devil have all the good tunes?” has been variously attributed to CharlesWesley, Martin Luther, William Booth, John Newton and Isaac Watts, but appears to have come from a sermon by a British pastor, Rowland Hill who said in 1844, “The devil should not have all the best tunes.” He was calling for an improvement in church music.
“The Star Spangled Banner” became the official national anthem relatively recently, in 1931. Before that it vied with “My Country ‘Tis of Thee” (using another British tune) and “Hail Columbia,” composed in 1789 by Philip Phile for the inauguration of George Washington. Joseph Hopkinson added lyrics in 1798, and the song was used as an unofficial national anthem until it lost popularity after World War I. It is still used instrumentally as entrance music for the Vice-President. Not to be confused with “Columbia, the Gem of the Ocean,” the anthem was performed in the John Adams mini-series when it was sung by an actor and the audience in Adams’ presence in the theater scene. It sounds like a national anthem written by George Frederic Handel. A verse and the chorus are:
Hail Columbia, happy land!
Hail, ye heroes, heav’n-born band,
Who fought and bled in freedom’s cause,
Who fought and bled in freedom’s cause,
And when the storm of war was gone
Enjoy’d the peace your valor won.
Let independence be our boast,
Ever mindful what it cost;
Ever grateful for the prize,
Let its altar reach the skies.
Chorus
Firm, united let us be,
Rallying round our liberty,
As a band of brothers joined,
Peace and safety we shall find.
I think the rarely sung fourth verse of “The Star Spangled Banner” is appropriate here as we think about our country, its freedoms and the sacrifices of so many people over the years and at the present time to insure those freedoms.
O! thus be it ever, when freemen shall stand
Between their loved home and the war’s desolation!
Blest with victory and peace, may the heav’n rescued land
Praise the Power that hath made and preserved us a nation.
Then conquer we must, when our cause it is just,
And this be our motto: ‘In God is our trust.’
And the star-spangled banner in triumph shall wave
O’er the land of the free and the home of the brave!
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Bob Tale–Uncle Jim and the Rural Fireworks Music Show
Here’s a little Royal Fireworks Music to go along with this post. Enjoy!
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=I38Kw-oG0kE
As my college friend Bob told us stories about his Uncle Jim, the farmer in New Jersey with whom Bob stayed during the summers, he always made it clear that Uncle Jim was an excellent farmer. As with many other people who excel in a certain area, Jim occasionally allowed his natural enthusiasm to carry him into areas of endeavor for which he was ill-suited, often with disastrous results.
One such occasion was Jim’s attempt to bring a little culture to his rural town. Jim enjoyed watching PBS and he saw a program on the Son et Lumiere shows popular then at chateaux in France, featuring classical music with laser and firework light displays. Now, Jim enjoyed the annual rendition of the Christmas portions of Handel’s Messiah done by the combined choirs of the town every winter holiday season, so he started thinking about staging his own son et lumiere show around the Fourth of July. He didn’t want to compete with the town’s holiday picnic and fireworks, so he settled on July 3 and printed up some flyers. They said:
COME HEAR AND SEE!
UNCLE JIM’S HOLIDAY
BOATLOAD OF
RURAL FIREWORKS MUSIC
JULY 3, 1969
AT THE FARM
DONATIONS ACCEPTED
Jim was a generous soul who gave any money he collected to Heifer International. He believed in farming, and in helping farmers all over the world.
And so, he and Bob were off to buy what Jim termed a “boatload of fireworks.” They returned with the pickup bed full, and set about readying the display.
Jim’s plan was to imitate the royal fireworks displays in England in which the pyrotechnics were shot off from barges. Instead of a barge, he had a rowboat which he and Bob filled with fireworks, fusing them so they went off in sequence.
Bob ran some speaker wire from Jim’s Lafayette stereo system and set up speakers near the stock pond. Dot was to play Handel’s Royal Fireworks Music as the display started. Bob and Jim would row out to the fireworks in the middle of the pond, ignite the long fuse, and paddle out of harm’s way and enjoy the show along with everyone else. It would be glorious.
Jim posted some signs around town, and come the evening of July 3, there was a steady stream of cars and trucks turning into the driveway. Bob directed everyone to park in a pasture, and they all made their way to the bleachers Jim had acquired when the high school put up steel ones at the baseball field. The old wooden ones had some splinters in them, but still had plenty of use as long as no one slid along the seats. Even if that happened, Dot helped in the medical tent every summer at the county fair and had her tweezers, alcohol and bandages. She was ready.
Dark settled on the farm, and Bob and Jim rowed out to set the spark that would begin the whole show. about one hundred people sat on the bleachers in breathless anticipation. Some of them said they could hardly wait to see what disaster would ensue, but they were a cynical minority.
Bob and Jim reached the fireworks boat, and Jim lit the fuse. Before they could even put an oar in the water to get away, sparks from the fuse fell onto the fireworks, igniting some, which ignited the rest. The whole boatload went up in one tremendous column of fire with a huge explosion which woke the sleeping cattle and pigs and caused them to kick down their fences and run away in panic.
Dot saw the first glare of the explosion and started the music. Bob and Jim, blessed with quick reflexes, dove into the water and stayed under for the time it took for all the fireworks to play out, which might have been thirty seconds. They surfaced, climbed in the boat and rowed for shore, certain that everyone would want their donation back. Actually, most people thought it was all planned. They said they had never seen such a spectacular display in all their lives and that they only wished it were longer. They went home happy.
Dot was waiting for Bob and Jim with towels and a couple of observations. “Tonight proves two things, she said. “There’s no fool like an old fool, Jim, and there’s a sucker born every minute.”
Jim and Bob didn’t say a word but went in to watch PBS. Masterpiece Theater was on, and they never missed it.
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Soujourn in the Eighteenth Century (without leaving town)
Colonial Williamsburg, in Virginia, is located about a two and a half hour drive from us. One of its advertising slogans is “spend a day in the eighteenth century” in the restored colonial area with reconstructed builidings and costumed historical interpreters. If you have a chance to go (it’s one of our favorite trips), be sure to catch up with the guy who portrays Thomas Jefferson. He’s great!
Anyhow, with the severe line of thunderstorms that smashed through this area Friday night, we got to visit the eighteenth century when we lost power for about twelve hours. Now, let me say that we were very fortunate with what we experienced. As of this writing (Sunday afternoon), there are still 2.4 million people without power, there have been 13 deaths, and people have suffered millions in property damage. I feel for them all and pray for relief and comfort soon for all concerned.
We didn’t have power or cell service for twelve hours, as I said, and a few branches and twigs in the yard.
I had several flashlights around the house so we used those when the lights went out. I wanted to listen to the radio, so I robbed a few flashlights of their “D” cells. Then I figured out I could listen to the glass-enclosed nerve center on WTOP-FM by going to their web site on my iPhone. Of course, I had no way to recharge the phone if the battery ran down. I don’t have a car charger to drive around to recharge it as Amy’s friend Kyle did when she lost power in a snowstorm in Massachusetts last winter.
We really didn’t have the full eighteenth century experience, if I think about it. We have city water so we had running water, and enough hot water in the gas-fired (and electrically ignited) water heater to take showers. We were careful to open and close the refrigerator and freezer quickly and hope the power wouldn’t be off long enough to thaw or spoil the food. And since we have a gas range top (with electric ignitors) we were able to light the burners with matches although we had only three of them. They were all we needed so I didn’t have to use my flint and steel or fire sticks.
Our landline phone worked throughout, so maybe we shouldn’t get rid of it after all.
The power came back on about 10 AM and we were back. Then I had to go around and reset all the line voltage clocks and timers. I tell you, sometimes technology is a curse…but one I can live with.
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Biscuit City 