Homeschooling

*The practice of teaching one's children at home* All parents do it. That's not only my opinion, but also a dictionary definition. There is lots of teaching going on in our home. And so, that's why I consider myself a homeschooler.

Shedding a little more light on the issue, some of us teach our children at home exclusively and some send their children to boarding school, stretching the definition of *at home* to its thinnest. Even the families who teach mainly at home usually contract for some services within their communities in the same way that the family who contracts with the boarding school is outsourcing most of their teaching efforts.

For example, if a family is involved with a homeschool group or if they consolidate their efforts and one parent teaches a group science class, some services are outsourced. Consider that the practice of enrolling one's children in recreational activities (physical education) through local associations is also contracting for services. Even using one's public library is, in a sense, contracting for outside services.

And so, in our family, we chose to contract for some of the teaching efforts by sending our children to a private, Christian school. Although we highly regard our responsibility before God to teach our children (Deut 6), we chose to delegate a portion of this responsibility to some Christian helpers for a part of the day.

We never lost sight of our duty before God to bring up our charges in the nurture and admonition of the Lord. Here's a link to a speech I gave several times. We continue to have the utmost regard for the Lord's Will and the vision He has helped us to have for their roles as Christian women of the 21st century.

With that explanation, now I will attempt to answer a questionnaire about which homeschooling books/resources I found most valuable or invaluable.

Homeschooling Meme

Dana/Dana (Okay, I'm (that's Ruthanne)breaking the rules here because Dana is not a homeschooler. However, she is very homeschool-friendly and loves life and learning. I really like Dana and would love to hear her thoughts on worthy educational resources.)

As you see I've been *tagged* And while there is no pressure to participate, I think I will. Actually I was thinking about these questions BEFORE I was tagged. And I started an answer....

So, in order to finish, I will break down the answers to one per day. Otherwise, the thought of putting all these ideas in one entry seems to keep me from completing the task.

That's the ticket...break it down into *doable* portions.

Touchstone

Shoutout to any of my reader/lurkers who subscribe to this magazine. I am looking for an article in the July 2006 issue. It's the one about cousins.

Leave me a comment if you are willing to email or snail mail me a copy of this article.

Thanks.

Sunday Sermon Series

For the past five weeks, and I expect for the coming five, at least, our pastor is preaching on various Scriptures and tying in the lives/works of historical personages. This is related to his particpation in Vision Forum's Mega History Conference which took place in July. I was unable to attend, and so, I am delighted to be hearing snippets JCM's lectures.

So, far we have covered 1) John Calvin and II Cor 10:1-6; Martin Luther and Romans 3; 3) Augustine of Hippo and Psalm 48; and 4) Survey of Martyrs from 1st cent thru 17th cent and John 15:16-27; and 5) Jesus thru the centuries and John 1:1-14 & Phil 2:5-11. Obviously, the hour-long sermons are just skimming through history, but they are informative and motivating.

One of the best effects of sitting under this type of Reformed preaching is the HOPE it inspires. Just like Gen Rbt E Lee in a letter to one of his captains, lamented that the *march of providence is so slow.......but that it is history that teaches us to hope.*

From my point of view, I dont want to be one of those people described by George Santayana.....who cant remember the past, and therefore, is condemned to repeat it.



PS Last Sunday, the girls sang a capella *Great in Thy Faithfulness* 

Wish you could of heard them :)

Meme for Five Things

Freezer
1)Bread and bread crumbs
2)Homemade soup
3)Nuts=pecans,walnuts,peanuts
4)Flour
5)Chicken Breasts

Closet
1)Upper rack=fall/winter clothes
2)Lower rack=spring/summer clothes
3)Floor(left)=dirty clothes basket
4)Floor(right)=shoe basket
5)Upper shelf=quilts/blankets

Car
1)Map
2)Jumper cables
3)Briefcase
4)Water bottle
5)Purse

Purse
1)Drivers License
2)Checkbook
3)Pen
4)Lipstick
5)Cell phone

On my mind
1)New employee
2)DD#1=Dec wedding
3)DD#2=Italian semester
4)DD#3=Newly collegiate
5)DD#4=Driving in AM traffic

Happy Birthday
DD#2, my artist/writer, is celebrating two decades!

In less than ten days she will be spending her Fall Semester studying art and writing in Italy!

She is the model in the painting in my Fine Art Friday entry over on my Xanga site.


Her special dinner menu which we all thoroughly enjoyed: Grilled Steak, Steamed Corn on the Cob, Steamed Broccoli, French Bread, NY Style Cheesecake w/fresh strawberries drizzled with hot chocolate fudge sauce.

Setting the Table
Just to give you an idea from last year's celebration, I'm posting this photo. This year's table setting uses a lime green cloth and napkins! Dishes are off-white with blue trim. Each place will have a knife, fork, spoon, dessert fork, and glass. Do you set the table completely for each meal in your home?

The colors and shapes on the plate have always captured my interest. In the case of our Low Country Boil, consider: The shrimp are pink and crescent-shaped. The sausage is red and log-like. The yellow/white corn is cylindrical or silo-like. The potatoes are small and spherical. The salad is very green, light and fluffy. Lest you think I a little *loco* with my efforts, consult my mentor, Mrs. Schaeffer, in her chapter on food, pgs 122-123, in Hidden Art of Homemaking.

A plate can be though of at times as a kind of *still life* - not a lasting one, of course, but lasting in memory. Dishes should be apart of the background for the colours of the food, and as one chooses dishes there should be some variety - even if the dishes are polished pieces of wood, shells, or large leaves from the jungle!

See my Fine Art Friday entry on my xanga site, too :)

Grocery Shopping

Although this rule is not hard and fast, Thursdays is my preferred grocery shopping day. If I were a *senior*, I might be tempted to switch to Wednesdays because of the discount offered :) But when the children were very young, I shopped only once per week and on Thursdays. It made for a good routine. We economized that way. We made friends at the store because they knew us.

So, since it's Thursday, I'm headed out to secure the foodstuffs for the Low Country Boil. Here's the menu. I won't embarass myself by listing the amount of each item needed to serve 16 guests, but I am wishing I could find my list from last year. It would save some brainwork.

Low Country Boil (shrimp, sausage, corn, potatoes)
Caesar Salad (DH's favorite)
Coleslaw (Becky is bringing)
Rolls
Pickle Tray

Iced Tea, Beer

Dessert (Carolin is bringing)

PS Although I dont usually use coupons (I buy store brands), I do shop from a list and rearrange when I'm there according to what's on sale, not having studied the ads before-hand.

Low Country Boil
Taken last July, this photo relates what's happening today and now. Guests are coming for this fun feast on Saturday. I am busy shopping, cleaning, and cooking.

Details concerning the recipe will follow.

Pictured in the photo (L-R) DM, DD#3, Nephew, Nephew, DD#1, DD#4

The Brook

Seems as if I've lost my blogging stride, but I trust it will return in time. Routines and habits play a big role in how much I accomplish each day, so once that rhythm is in synch again, the posts should begin to flow.

Which makes me think of this neat poem by Alfred, Lord Tennyson, and how Spurgeon capitalized on one of its phrases.

The Brook

I come from haunts of coot and hern,
I make a sudden sally
And sparkle out among the fern,
To bicker down a valley.

By thirty hills I hurry down,
Or slip between the ridges,
By twenty thorpes, a little town,
And half a hundred bridges.

Till last by Philip's farm I flow
To join the brimming river,
For men may come and men may go,
But I go on for ever.

I chatter over stony ways,
In little sharps and trebles,
I bubble into eddying bays,
I babble on the pebbles.

With many a curve my banks I fret
By many a field and fallow,
And many a fairy foreland set
With willow-weed and mallow.

I chatter, chatter, as I flow
To join the brimming river,
For men may come and men may go,
But I go on for ever.

I wind about, and in and out,
With here a blossom sailing,
And here and there a lusty trout,
And here and there a grayling,

And here and there a foamy flake
Upon me, as I travel
With many a silvery waterbreak
Above the golden gravel,

And draw them all along, and flow
To join the brimming river
For men may come and men may go,
But I go on for ever.

I steal by lawns and grassy plots,
I slide by hazel covers;
I move the sweet forget-me-nots
That grow for happy lovers.

I slip, I slide, I gloom, I glance,
Among my skimming swallows;
I make the netted sunbeam dance
Against my sandy shallows.

I murmur under moon and stars
In brambly wildernesses;
I linger by my shingly bars;
I loiter round my cresses;

And out again I curve and flow
To join the brimming river,
For men may come and men may go,
But I go on for ever.

Workmen Update

Did they come this Monday morning to work? NO!
Did they call? NO!
Did they leave a note last Friday, when they left at 2pm? NO!
Is the job complete? NO!!

In case you were wondering :)

Workmen

No time to post as *they* will be here shortly to finish a project started LAST AUGUST!!!

Time Management

Years ago I worked for a real estate broker who used a timer to help him get his work done. A few years later, I read Side-Tracked Home Executive, and many of the housekeeping techniques taught by my mother were reiterated in this organizational handbook.

Today I continue to use these methods to help me get all my work done. For example, I wash on a certain day of the week. If it doesn't get all done that day (this doesn't happen often), then the task waits for the next scheduled wash day. I try not to worry about it in between.

Another good time management technique is to rest from my ordinary labors on Sundays :) It's amazing how the Lord provides the time to get things done on the other six days, when I honor His command to keep the Sabbath *holy* Shame on me when I get out of line.

One more adage: Learn to complete a day's work in a day's time.

Rival Lovers
A story of the War Between the States
by William Ferguson Smith
Edited by Harriet Stovall Kelley


Written more than 125 years ago, Rival Lovers is a story of a young Georgia boy who went away to war in 1863, fell in love and into great adventure, and then returned home to write about his experience.



It is a courtly tale of romance that lay lost and forgotten until his great niece discovered the original text while cleaning out the old Smith Family home in Flovilla, GA in 1971.


The second half of the book contains a biographical sketch and other writings by Smith, who became one of his county's leading and most conscientious citizens

Where Are You?

Some people like Cindy, like to move, I don’t. So, my list of places I've lived is rather short. If anyone asks where I'm from (standard 1st question in the South), it's the big *A*, even tho' I'm 40 miles north of it right now, and rarely venture into the city. This list is chronological.

Atlanta, GA
Mtn Home AFB, ID
Atlanta, GA
Hillsdale, MI
Atlanta, GA
Alexandria, VA
Kalamazoo, MI
Charleston, SC
Gadsden, AL
Rome, GA
Canton, GA

Blogging will be lighter than normal until the end of the month, as reunion time is here!!

Thanks

Thanks to all y'all for stopping by and wishing my guy a happy b'day! It was indeed happy and we feasted on chicken and squash roasted on his new grill.
To round out the menu, I served corn on the cob, cauliflower salad, and rolls.
The birthday cake served with chocolate ice cream is posted on my xanga site.

HUSBAND LOVE

Five Things I've Learned

from my husband
1) Laughter is good medicine.
2) Chinese food is a must!
3) Non-verbal communication is a language.
4) Exercise is fun. Repeat three time :)
5) To eat popcorn at the movies.

If you stop by, wont you consider leaving a birthday wish for him?

My Fearless Leader and Me
who will be celebrating a birthday soon and will be the subject my next entry.









Gerund Meme
Awaking..........5:30 am
Drinking.........Black coffee
Devoting.........with Spurgeon's Morning/Evening
Reading..........Edith Schaeffer's Affliction
Organizing.......my desk LOL
Writing..........a few checks
Sending..........a couple of greeting cards to ailing friends
Talking..........to family members to coordinate transportation
Weathering.......the heat; high today is 96
Walking..........the neighborhood hills
Breakfasting.....with a strawberry smoothie
Dressing.........in a cute short jean skirt :)
Washing..........clothes
Ironing..........white Irish linen table napkins
Drying...........towels
Folding..........shirts
Sorting..........socks
Empyting.........trashcans
Shopping.........for groceries
Reunioning.......the Linches
Telephoning......florists
Wedding..........on the brain
Eating...........BLT's for dinner
Watching.........1776 (film adaptation of musical)
Sleeping.........around 10p

Environment
our conversations, attitudes, behaviour, response or lack of response, hardness or compassion, our love or selfishness, joy or dullness, our demostrated trust and faith or our continual despondency, our concern for others or our self pity -- all these things make a difference to the people who have to live in our environment.




From pg 209 of the paperback edition, Hidden Art of Homemaking by Edith Schaeffer

Chapter 14 of Mrs Schaeffer's book is simply stupendous and should be read often. While she introduces the concept of *environment* by making an analogy to a new art form, what she really wants to delineate is the environment of one's own home, which is not new. I call that *atmosphere*, something which is fairly intangible, but not too difficult to put into effect. We all do it whether we want to or not. Mrs. Schaeffer continues her essay by comparing and contrasting ways in which to create this hidden art form.

This entry is copied from my xanga site where I announced my Father's Day tribute, five entries recounting a few of the many things I learned from my father.

I'm on a mission to collect and read all of Mrs. Schaeffer's books. I just checked out of the library, Affliction and The Tapestry.

Which ones do you own and like the best?

How to say no

In a light-hearted way, I might say that I learned this tactic from my father…who does have a reputation for bringing up the opposite side of an argument for the sake of discussion. Can you say "devil's advocate?" Or it might be a gene he passed on. But, in reality, there is great comfort in his ability to assess a situation accurately and advise prudently, even if it means telling a child, a spouse, or a colleague "no." The current jingle or ad campaign *just say no* is farcical to me because rarely can one say "NO" one time (against taking drugs, drinking/driving, whatever) and have it suffice or protect. One must be able to say no over and over again. Repeatedly we are faced with situations in which we must resist evil and do the right thing. This means learning how to say no (or voting against.)  Heaven help those who don’t ask or seek counsel and proceed based on thinking that "the counselor will just say no" or say to oneself, "I'll go ahead; it's easier to ask forgiveness afterwards." Thank God I have a father who has the strength of character to say no, not in a knee-jerk, tyrannical fashion, but after careful contemplation with Biblical resolve to conserve his faith, family, and society.

He's a conservative.

Sunday Dinner

The best way to top off a powerful sermon is by breaking bread together. We had nine around the dining room table today.

Fried Chicken Mrs Winners
Cheese Grits
Pole Beans, steamed
Summer Squash, sauteed w/herbs
Copper Pennies (carrot salad)
Biscuits (Mrs Winners)

Vanilla Ice Cream
Sliced Peaches
Peachtree Schnapps
Pound Cake

Coffee/Tea

How not to start a sentence with why

This is a pretty simple instruction, but something I have had to work on. Thank goodness for parents who will tell children over and over again the same principle in an effort to mold their behaviors into well-rounded, Godly grown-ups. So, that's basically what this admonition is about. My father (and my mother) cautioned me against using why when asking my children why they did something. It just encourages the youngster to make up something. So, rephrase the question in an effort to zero in on the issue. It also keeps me from sounding like I'm giving someone the third degree, too.

Note to self: file under parenting, when you finally figure out how to categorize your posts :)

How to watch TV

With your eyes closed; yes, really! Turn on the TV, and I fall asleep! Must be genetic because that's one of the memories I have…..asleep in his reclining chair, after a long, hard day's work with the TV on. I would come downstairs about 11:30 pm for a study break. Never irritated at being awakened, he'd answer any and all questions I had, we'd visit for a bit while watching Johnny Carson's monologue, and then I'd head back to the books.
But seriously speaking, while the TV might be turned onto a golf game (insert sport of the season)or an old war movie, my father, the multi-tasker is always doing something else: reading the newspaper, a book, his Bible, some newsletter; participating in a teleconference, preparing a talk, or perhaps napping. So, what did I learn from my father about television? Use discretion when choosing what you watch. Televisions are not inherently bad, the way guns are not inherently wicked…..it's the way people choose to use them that makes them conduits of evil.

How to eat eggs

Each and every morning my father rises early and eats breakfast. He thinks it's the most important meal of the day. Furthermore, he thinks that there is no better breakfast than one with eggs! First, he has a piece of fruit (half a grapefruit in winter, one quarter of a cantaloupe in summer.) Then he eats two fried eggs, two pieces of toast, a small glass of milk, and a cup of coffee. Once upon a time, bacon was on his plate, but I think that's been gone for thirty years or more. As a youngster, eggs were not my favorite food. I think I gagged on them unless I had a piece of toast. It didn't really matter. That's what was served for breakfast and that is what I ate :) That's how I learned to eat eggs...by my father's example.

Eggs have gotten some bad press lately, but I maintain that they are the perfect breakfast food. They are considered a perfect protein, one which contains the eight essential amino acids. Once those are present, our body can manufacture the other 14, which helps to optimize overall metabolism. Hence, I continued my father's example by serving my children eggs for breakfast. I told them it was brain food. And remember, teachers can always tell which children have eaten a good breakfast.

Here's a fine *egg* poem by Bunyan for your morning devotion.

Choral Music

Daddy sang in his high school choral group at Woodlawn High School in Birmingham, AL. They were called The Warblers or The Minstrels. In addition, he seems to have sung with a barbershop-type quartet as well. For a while he sang with our church's choir. He always has good stories to tell about practices, performances, and reunions as far as singing goes. Furthermore, he is always willing to attend one of my daughter's choral concerts even if it's a distance away. It just makes for good discussions and connections between generations. This afternoon after Sunday dinner, we listened to Promised Land, a CD of spirituals sung by All Saints Church Choir. He knew all the songs, especially Ain-a That Good News. If you click on the link, scroll down to find the audio files. There are two choices. Listen to both :)

Sunday Feast

Father's Day 2006

We always have a big *dinner* after church on Sunday. And I dont *cook* on Sunday evenings. One can eat, it's just along the lines of popcorn or a bowl of cereal.

For me part of the challenge in cooking and serving any meal is preparation ahead of time, so that I dont have to jump up and down from the table. Furthermore, for Sundays, I really prefer to finish all the prep on Saturday with only the minor things, like steaming veggies right before serving, left until mealtime.

Menus sorta come to me. I am influenced by the seasons and the weather and the tastes of my guests. I write them down and save them. Now I know where I will put them. In my guest book! Never mind the fact that the guests dont actually get to sign their names and make comments. I'll do it!

Now, without any further delay, today we are dining on...

Chilled Georgia Shrimp served with Louis Sauce
Steamed Asparagus
Tortellini Capri
Squash Casserole
Onion Foccaccia

Iced Tea
Pinot Grigio (Barone FINI Valdadige)

Pecan Pie a la mode
Coffee

Five Things My Father Taught Me

1) How to say *no*.
2) How to watch TV.
3) How to eat eggs.
4) How to avoid starting a sentence with *why*.
5) How to appreciate choral music.

Stay tuned for the stories.

MD

My Daddy


When Daddy signs his name
He always writes *M.D.*
That's so people all will know
That he belongs to me.
For *M.D.* means *My Daddy*
Or something just the same.
And that is why he always
Puts these letters on his name.
Some letters on his name are small,
But these are not you see.
He always makes them big like that
Because He's proud of me.

Karen Weihs

WDJ Pastel Portrait

Honour thy father and thy mother: that thy days may be long upon the land which the Lord thy God giveth thee. Ex20:12

Image Credit

Veggie Plate Combos

What?! No suggestions for combinations. I guess y'all needed the list of choices to get your juices flowing. Choose three, then say roll or cornbread. Got it?

Steamed cabbage, green beans, broccoli, kernel corn, baked sweet potato, creamed potatoes, squash casserole, mac/cheese, carrots, black-eyed peas, collards, potato salad, waldorf salad, cucumber salad, coleslaw.

I'm having sweet potato, collards, black-eyed peas, and cornbread. And my tea is not sweet :)

Potato Salad

In keeping with my Summer Salad Fest, I'm posting this week's salad recipe in honor of the Southern Veggie Plate, which can comprise any combination of three or four veggies, hot or cold. One of my favorite places to eat out has wonderful veggies. When creating/serving a veggie plate at home, I use color as my guide and consult a nutrition book to make sure I've selected choices which will make a complete protein. So, with this potato salad recipe, I will serve green beans, sliced tomatoes or sliced cantaloupe, and cornbread or biscuits. Pickled beets would work well, too.

Potatoes, one per person, plus one for the pot, peeled and diced, cooked in pressure cooker, drained, and refrigerated until chilled
Onion, white, very small amount finely grated
Pickle, dill, diced
Mayo, Duke's (no sugar)
Mustard, prepared - whichever one your family likes, but I get rave reviews when I used one with a smoke flavor

What's your favorite veggie plate combo?

Must Go Soup

This recipe is never the same because it is based on the ingredients that MUST GO out of the refrigerator or freezer. Basically it's made from leftovers, which I prefer to call *planned-overs* and even though it's 93 degrees outside, my DH was thrilled to find out that he'd be coming home to a bowl of freshly made soup.

In a very large (8-10qt) stock pot, combine the following ingredients.

3 quarts stock (either canned, or bouillon cubes, or in this case three leftover packets of Lipton Onion Soup mix, inherited from a great aunt who closed her kitchen)

28 oz canned, diced tomatoes (you agrarians out there probably have these freshly frozen in your chest freezer in the basement)

24 oz veggie juice (or in my case, leftover bloody mary mix)

32 oz frozen veggies (I used corn and gumbo mix cuz that's what had to be cleaned out of the freezer)

16 oz other veggies I had frozen, like green beans and carrots, which are in ziplock baggies in a special basket in the freezer just for this purpose. See Amy's comment on making smoothies with leftover fruit.

1 lb browned ground beef (found it in a tupperware container in the back of the freezer)

1/2 C dry alphabet pasta (put in last and just let sit covered for 30 mins)

Cool some and then refrigerate.

As far as my method goes, I usually bring the stock to a boil and dump in the frozen items and stir. If most of your items come from a weeks worth of refrigerator leftovers (not frozen ones), just heat the liquid and veggies at the same time. I delay adding leftover rice or noodles because they will get mushy, so add those pretty close to serving time, even if it means the next day. I have been known to freeze the entire amount in a large Tupperware container. But it also does well in small individual serving containers.

Omelette Supper
We were the fortunate recipients of some free-range, organically-fed chicken eggs, and so, I decided to serve omelettes for dinner last night. I prepared the various ingredients (sliced mushrooms, green onions, grated cheddar cheese, and diced ham) ahead of time, so that one only had to beat the eggs, pour and tilt. Here's a pic of the one I served to my DH. The girls each prepared their own :)

Therefore cooking as an art - *Hidden Art*, if you want to call it so - should be recognized and then developed in everyone who has to cook, wants to cook, or could cook.Mrs Schaeffer pg 117

Years ago (6/9/73 to be exact), I dined at Mme Romaine de Lyon restaurant and bought her cookbook, The Art of Cooking Omelettes for my mother.

She recently passed it on to me and so my girls were instructed from chapter two which gives detailed instructions.

Mme says learn first principles; then recipes; and finally, style.

June 8, 1958














This photo was taken after Sunday dinner, on the day of my baptism. There are probably a number of stories which could be told about this day, but I am going to allow the picture to speak its *thousand words.*

I do want thank my folks for their covenant faithfulness demonstrated by having me baptised as an infant. It was indeed a special time with longterm consequences.

See all the ladies wearing hats?

All the different styles of hats is my favorite part of this photo. I am the baby on the far left in the lap of my paternal grandmother. That's my older brother in the lap of my maternal grandfather. Both of those grandparents died within two years of this event.

I am named after my father (tall guy behind me) and my maternal grandmother's maiden name (seated lady front extreme right).

There are two sets of godparents pictured.

There are three sets of sisters in the picture, too.

Conservatives and Religious Faith

Not all religious people are conservatives; and not all conservatives are religious people. Christianity prescribes no especial form of politics. There have been famous radicals who were devout Christians -- theough most radicals have been nothing of the sort. All the same, there could be no conservatism without a religious foundation, and it is conservative people, by and large, who defend religion in our time.

This quote is taken from the second chapter of a book written by one of my college professors, Russell Kirk in The Intelligent Woman's Guide to Conservatism.

Today I am paying attention to and praying for the primary election contests in Alabama.

Weight Watching

Another thing my mother taught me: counting calories and making wise, nutritional choices. I reckon I will struggle forever with my weight. Well, maybe not in heaven, because in my resurrected body, I expect to be 5'4" 120# and resemble myself at age 21 :)

I have the most success with my weight when I am watching it carefully. I have been way up and way down, so I have a few opinions about this topic. Key ingredients are 1)keeping a food diary 2)drinking 60 oz water daily 3)regular exercise and 4)the right attitude.

It's the last one that intrigues me, because I KNOW that I can be putting into effect the first three modifications, and yet not achieve. It's that intangible *attitude* that catches me off balance. In fact, I will even venture to postulate that the first three behaviors account for only 50% of the equation, granting a whopping 50% to the most difficult area to control: what's going on in my head (thoughts). In a subconscious way these brainwaves impact hormones, enzymes, metabolism, and digestion. Fascinating!

See ya after my walk.

How to use a blackboard

This is the final post in a series detailing a few things my mother taught me.

There were six of us born in the span of six and one half years, so there was a lot for my mother to keep up with. Besides being very organized, she knew that communication was a key ingredient. Enter the blackboard. Yup. Big black slate with white chalk hung boldly in our breakfast room. I'm guessing it was 4'x 5'. Wish I had a picture. Note to self: FIND a picture :)

The rest is very simple. On the left hand side she wrote everyone's names in a vertical column. Just after your name, there might be a message, an assignment, or *SEE ME* (that meant you were in trouble) I only remember writing on the board with permission and the main thing I was supposed to record was my whereabouts!! We lived in a neighborhood of 75 plus children

Here's an example of what might have been written on it in 1970:

Daddy (Imperial Potentate)
Moma -
Bert - Randy's playing stratomatic football
Dana - Winters back by 5
Noel - Godwins home by 6
Amanda - Michelle's
Grey - backyard
Will - backyard

The blackboard was retired in 1995, after thirty years of faithful service.

How to make a Southern Belle Costume

Mrs. Schaeffer says From my own experience of sewing, making my own and the children's clothing, I would say that nothing gives one the possiblity of 'fitting in' with a wide variety of people like being able to say "I made it myself."

This entry makes up part four of the stories explaining what my mother taught me as queried by Donna in a Friday Five.

The short answer is that she taught me how to sew. She taught by example, by assisting, by providing lessons, and by encouraging.

Once upon a time a college-aged daughter needed a costume for a skit. The skit was set in the ante-bellum South. This is where my memory gets a little fuzzy because the college was in Michigan (what do *they* know about the South?) and I cant remember the songs or story lines, but suffice it to say that it was for a rush party. I wish I had a picture for my dear readers.

My mother tore apart one of her *old* party gowns which we used as pattern pieces for my costume. The dress turned out well. Not only did I wear it for the skit, but I also wore it to a costume party on my first *real* date with my now DH. My daughters played dress-up with it later.

While sewing is not one of my favorite tasks (frequently I have to rip out a seam), I am accomplished at it, having made anything from a lined bathing suit to a french machine-sewn cotton bastiste little girl's dress complete with inlaid lace bow. In my party days, I made all my evening dresses. I found a certain pattern which was flattering on me and then made it with four different fabrics: red velvet, white, floral and plaid.

Am I passing this talent on to my own daughters? Well, maybe...maybe not. They all have sewing boxes complete with their own sets of Gingher scissors. And I have made with each individually a sundress, which we wore for a family photo. They all can hem a dress and sew on a button. They havent had lessons, but there is still time for that, as they are young :) And, I'm only a phone call away.

Do you own a sewing machine?

How to set the table

Does this task strike you as simple? meaningless? unimportant? Well, take a second look. This chore is a key example of the well-run household where I grew up and learned so keenly from my mother.

One of the most striking parts of our routine for setting the table was that we did it the night BEFORE! This preparation made breakfast time go more smoothly. My mother had two sets of flatware and dinnerware, so that, if one set was in the dishwasher, there would be no excuse for not setting the table for the next meal. In short, part of cleaning up after dinner was setting the table for breakfast the next day.

Each place was set completely with three pieces of flatware: knife, fork, and spoon. We used paper napkins when we were very young, but it was not long before she graduated us to cloth napkins held in place with a personalized ring. Juice cups were turned upside down and plates were placed in the warmer.

There was an intricate schedule that we all understood and operated under. Division of labor and the laws of supply and demand were demonstrated clearly in our little eco-system. There is no need to record the minute details, but we six children knew what was expected of us and there were consequences when one's obligation was not completed properly.

This is home economics at its finest.

Biscuit Story

Recipe follows. I actually posted that first and then remembered I was supposed to be telling stories about things my mother taught me. Well, my mother taught me how to cook. Her method was simple.

See one. Do one. Teach one.

It started early when I was very young. I watched her cook. She tells me I always wanted to help her stir (stirrl, I said). When she let me stir the oatmeal and I didnt place the spoon all the way to the bottom of the saucepan, and some of it burned, she sighed. I watched our maid cook, too. Before she left for the day, dinner was sitting on the hottray ready to serve at six o'clock sharp. I have fond memories of her, fixing a pot of homemade hot chocolate as an after school snack on a cold winter day. Down the street, I watched my friend's mother (a Yankee!) cook, tasting sweet and sour pork for the first time ever.

I first remember baking brownies at age eight. I think there is a good picture of me and my older brother working together at the kitchen counter. In sixth grade social studies, we studied world geography and had to prepare a report on each country. I always chose *Cooking*. My written report was always accompanied by an authentic dish which I shared with the class. For example, for France: chocolate mouse Russia: it was an iced pastry item with raspberry filling Italy: homemade stuffed manicotti with both red and white sauces. By the time I finished with that meal, I think I was too tired to eat. But you get the point.

By age twelve, I could bake a yellow, three-layer all alone and ice it with chocolate buttercream frosting. This recipe continues to be a favorite birthday cake in our family.

For the next five years came lots of watching and helping. In our family of six children, we rotated kitchen duty which not only included the after-meal cleanup, but also started early in the day with meal prep. If your turn fell on a holiday or Sunday, you could count on devoting the better part of your day to the kitchen.

Long about age 18, I took a cooking class from Nathalie Dupree when she was Director of Rich's Cooking School. When I lived at home for four months after college, I cooked for the family in exchange for room and board.

In short, my mother continues to be an example of an excellent cook and hostess. She was always there to show me what to do next or answer a question about why something didnt turn out right. She read and collected cookbooks. She kept several recipe boxes well organized. She prepared a variety of menus, in fact making a list of vegetables in order to make sure we had tried ALL of them. You never know where you will eat one day, she would say. To this day she states that cooking is not one of her favorite tasks, but because she had a family to feed, she chose to do it well.

Thanks, Moma!

How to fix biscuits

I think I have posted my recipe before. No matter. I will post it again. For any cooks out there, you know that recipes evolve, and this one is no different. When I first learned to prepare biscuits, I was using white flour and Crisco shortening. Furthermore, each cook puts her own *stamp* on her biscuit recipe. So, be ready to own up to your style of this Southern quickbread.

Dry Ingredients:
2 Cups whole wheat flour
2 Cups unbleached white flour
1 tsp salt
1 tsp baking soda
1 tsp baking powder (optional, but it will lighten your biscuit)

Wet Ingredients:
1 Cup Oil (I use safflower)
2 1/2 Cups buttermilk

Combine five dry ingredients in large mixing bowl. In a one quart pyrex mixing cup, blend wet ingredients with a wire wisk. Pour over dry. Stir with wooden spoon until all is combined without overworking batter. It should form into a loose ball of dough. Dump onto floured surface. I dust again with flour, before rolling out to 1" thickness. Cut into 2 1/4" rounds and place on large baking sheet. Do not allow edges of biscuits to touch. Bake 20-25 minutes in 425 degree PREHEATED oven or until browned.

Serves 8 adults.

Enjoy plain, buttered, jammed, honeyed, sorghumed, or stuffed with a sausage patty. I NEVER throw these out. Leftovers are *planned* and stored in ziplock freezer bag. If they are not used up on soup night, or crumbed for use in meatloaf or squash casserole, they are a prized ingredient for my Cornbread Dressing at Thanksgiving.

How to be mean

Better tell this story quickly or one might get the wrong impression. She doesnt look mean, does she?

The whole concept ties into Bobbie Pingaro's 1967 essay/poem entitled The Meanest Mother in the World and strikes at the heart of my parenting style.

When I was a child, did I really believe my mother was mean? No, but she implemented a lot of the tactics described in this essay and I am the better for it. So, when another mother-friend of mine regaled me with the story of how she made an executive decision based on *I'll bet Mrs. Jago wont let her children see that movie,* I knew I had learned well.

Obviously, the use of the word *mean* was an attention-getter. I sometimes joke with my own children about *meanness* being a positive trait in a mother. Take Kipling's poem Female of the Species, for example.

Some of my favorite parenting books are The Bible, Proverbs for Parenting, Withhold Not Correction by Bruce Ray, Grist from Adams' Mill by Jay Adams, Six Points for Raising Happy, Healthy Children by John Rosemond, and Shepherding a Child's Heart by Ted Tripp. My parents havent written a book, but if they had it would be on the list becasue they were and continue to be models of excellent parenting.

What parenting book has most influenced your style?

Five Things My Mother Taught Me

1. How to use a blackboard.
2. How to set the table.
3. How to be mean.
4. How to make a Southern Belle costume.
5. How to fix biscuits.













Self Portrait

Since last Friday's Five I have been pondering what my mother taught me.

She taught me lots of things and she continues to teach me, but I have come up with a short list identifying five very specific tasks.

Stories to follow.



Inspiration from Quiet Life .

Orange Chicken with Avocado

What a treat to have someone else prepare dinner!! DD#2 has outdone herself. Not only did this food taste deliciously but the presentation was down right artistic!

Summer Dinners

There are six around the dinnertable now. When I had only two children, I still cooked for 6-8 and invited the neighbors over. I suppose in larger families there is no such thing as leftovers. But I rely on leftovers. I plan for them and market them :)

The collegians have been home for almost a week and we're trying to settle into a routine. I'm thinking out loud about meal prep, grocery shopping, laundry days, and general housekeeping. Transportation is a big issue because we have six drivers and three vehicles.

But back to the issue at hand....food. We love to grill and eat cold salads when the weather is hot. There's no time like the present to give everyone a chance to be chef for the day.

What's your favorite summer meal?

Hair







Dear Reader,
I like you to meet my faithful hairdresser of 40 plus years, Mr Paul Hensler. I cant say enough good things about him, but let me try.

First, note that he is still working at age 75! What a testimony to his industrious nature. Although he no longer owns his own shop, after retiring and recouperating from some knee surgery, he just missed *hair* too much.

I first met him when he trimmed my hair at age 7, right before the beginning of second grade. He styled my hair on my wedding day, gave me a perm after the birth of my first daughter, and has kept me feeling young and beautiful with highlights and up-to-date hairdoos.

While I'm not entirely sure who gave this advice, it has worked well for me: If you have to choose between getting your hair done (cut, styled, whatever) or buying a new dress (for a special occasion), choose *hair*

Which is where I'm headed right now. When was the last time you had your hair *done*?

Alice Frances Cheeseman

Happy Birthday to someone who made a big impression on me when I was young.

Several weeks ago, in the Friday Five, Donna asked us to name a funny teacher we had had. I couldnt really name one, but I do have very fond memories of Miss Cheeseman, who taught me well. She was my teacher not only in the fifth grade, but also in the seventh. I think I even had her for one class as a fourth grader.

She had beautiful handwriting, taught us three different ways to write the date, offered bonus points for vocabulary words, like prestidigitation. She taught me how to diagram sentences, how to outline a history lesson, and made me work hard! She gave me the opportunity to plan all the chapel services for the middle school, gave me my favorite cookbook as a wedding present, Joy of Cooking, and was an example of an overall good person.

Why I remember birthdays, I will never understand. Some things/facts just dont stick in my brain, and then others never fade.....like this birthday....and even tho' she's deceased, I just wanted to highlight her enduring influences.

Do you have someone you want to talk about today?

Introductions

Cindy has tagged me to reveal six interesting things about myself.

1) I left high school after my junior year and headed off the college, where I graduated summa cum laude in three years with a BA, major: History with minors: French and German. I wanted to be an international business woman (ie, executive assistant).
2) I married at age 22 after *dating* my husband for over four years. We met in college, so we have known one another over 31 years! We have four daughters aged 21, 19, 18, and 16.
3) I was born and reared in Atlanta along with my five siblings, who are now scattered, but we have given our folks 29 grands. We gather for a family reunion at Callaway Gardens each July.
4) In addition to serving my husband at home, I have for ten years now assisted him by managing his private family practice. We have a passion for keeping medicine free from governmental control and independent of insurance companies.
5) I enjoy lots of things: reading, cooking, organizing, most things Southern, politics, theology, and economics.
6) I had the privilege of knowing and working for Congressman Larry McDonald who was killed along with 168 others by the Soviets in 1983.

Carolina Wren

This bird is one of my favorites because s/he sings so loudly and so lovely. S/he perches on the railing of my desk and his whole body warbles as the song travels out of his mouth. I like the different shades of the brown and white markings on this bird.

Do you have a favorite bird in your backyard?

Photo credit www.aviary.owls.com/carolinawren

National Day of Prayer

Thursday marks a special day set aside to pray for the concerns of our nation. Use this page to figure out what's going on in your neighborhood. Elisabeth Eliot's devotion today mentions some good guidelines for prayer, as does the National Day website.

In other news, today marks the fifteenth anniversary of the opening of DH's private practice :)

Lots to pray/praise about.

It Isn't the Church - It's You
Author Unknown

If you want to have the kind of a church
Like the kind of a church you like,
You needn't slip your clothes in a grip
And start on a long, long hike.

You'll only find what you left behind,
For there's nothing really new,
It's a knock at yourself when you knock your church;
It isn't' the church - it's you.

When everything seems to be going wrong,
And trouble seems everywhere brewing;
When prayer meeting, young people's meeting, and all,
Seem simmering slowly - stewing,
Just take a look at yourself and say,
"What's the use of being blue?"
Are you doing your "bit" to makes things a "hit"?
It isn't the church it's you.

It's really strange sometimes, don't you know,
That things go as well as they do,
When we think of the little -- the very small mite-
We add to the work of the few.
We sit, and stand round, and complain of what's done,
And do very little but fuss.
Are we bearing our share of the burdens to bear?
It isn't the church - it's us.

So, if you want to have the kind of a church
Like the kind of a church you like,
Put off you guile, and put on your best smile,
And hike, by brother, just hike,
To the work in the hand that has to be done--
The work of a saving a few.
It isn't the church that is wrong, by boy;
It isn't the church - it 's you.

In Memory of Our Cat, Ralph

by Garrison Keillor


When we got home, it was almost dark.
Our neighbor waited on the walk.
"I'm sorry, I have bad news," he said.
"Your cat, the gray-black one, is dead.
I found him by the garage an hour ago."
"Thank you," I said, "for letting us know."
We dug a hole in the flower bed
With lilac bushes overhead,
Where this cat loved to lie in spring
And roll in dirt and eat the green
Delicious first spring bud,
And laid him down and covered him up,
Wrapped in a piece of tablecloth,
Our good old cat laid in the earth.
We quickly turned and went inside
The empty house and sat and cried
Softly in the dark some tears
For that familiar voice, that fur,
That soft weight missing from our laps,
That we had loved too well perhaps
And mourned from weakness of the heart.
A childish weakness, to regard
An animal whose life is brief
With such affection and such grief.
If such is weakness, so it be.
This modest elegy
Is only meant to note the death
Of one cat so we won't forget
His face, his name, his gift
Of cat affection while he lived,
The sweet shy nature
Of this graceful creature,
The simple pleasure of himself,
The memory of our cat, Ralph.

Posted in memory of our cat, Mittens, who died February 16, 2006.

I Corinthians 13:1-13

Though I speak with the tongues of men and of angels, and have not charity, I am become as sounding brass, or a tinkling cymbal. And though I have the gift of prophecy, and understand all mysteries, and all knowledge; and though I have all faith, so that I could remove mountains, and have not charity, I am nothing. And though I bestow all my goods to feed the poor, and though I give my body to be burned, and have not charity, it profiteth me nothing. Charity suffereth long, and is kind; charity envieth not; charity vaunteth not itself, is not puffed up, doth not behave itself unseemly, seeketh not her own, is not easily provoked, thinketh no evil; rejoiceth not in iniquity, but rejoiceth in the truth; beareth all things, believeth all things, hopeth all things, endureth all things. Charity never faileth: but whether there be prophecies, they shall fail; whether there be tongues, they shall cease; whether there be knowledge, it shall vanish away. For we know in part, and we prophesy in part. But when that which is perfect is come, then that which is in part shall be done away. When I was a child, I spake as a child, I understood as a child, I thought as a child: but when I became a man, I put away childish things. For now we see through a glass, darkly; but then face to face: now I know in part; but then shall I know even as also I am know. And now abideth faith, hope, charity, these three; but the greatest of these is charity.

King James Version

Mealtime Poetry

Be present at our table, Lord;
Be here and everywhere adored;
Thy creatures bless, and grant that we
May feast in paradise with Thee.

We thank Thee, Lord, for this our food,
For life and health and every good;
By Thine own hand may we be fed;
Give us each day our daily bread.

We thank Thee, Lord, for this our good,
But more because of Jesus’ blood;
Let manna to our souls be giv’n,
The Bread of Life sent down from Heav’n.

John Cennick

1718-1755

British itinerant evangelist

This is the blessing I said, when it was *my turn* as a child. I found it in The Lion Book of Family Prayers by Mary Batchelor. Post a comment and tell me what poem you prayed.

Confederate Women
Subject of Praise

Butts County (GA) Progress

EDITOR PROGRESS:
Your paper of some weeks past was handed to me on sick-bed in McDonough.
I read a suggestion from my brother Wilson Smith on the Women of the Confederacy and I was forcibly impressed. I dare say there is hardly an ex-confederate soldier in Butts county but what would vote to give the monument to the Women of the Confederacy instead of the Soldier, if the Daughters in Butts county decide to build one. And the new idea, the spinning wheel instead of the gun, is grand.
Yes, while other sections are raising the shaft in honor of the men who stood in line with gun and bayonet, let Butts county raise the shaft in honor and memory of the noble women who stood behind the lines and prayed and spun and wove, and buried the dead that were sent home. God bless them, heroines all. Who is it that went through that fearful ordeal that can now meditate upon the sacrifices, suffering and hardships of those mothers, wives, sisters and daughters and keep back the tears?
I can tell you what it was that caused the Confederate soldiers to astonish the world by their endurance of hardships and heroic bravery. It was the mother, wife, sweetheart and sister at home. And who has attempted to write the history of their heroic struggle? No one. And the half can never be told.
A personal explanation will illustrate the cause of the Confederate solders staying in the last ditch until killed or captured. Two years of the war had passed before I was old enough to go. My older brother as well as many neighbors had been brought home shot to pieces and many other dear friends left dead on the battle field. We knew then what it meant to go to the war. The time for my departure had come. My clothes were packed and I, a small boy (stature 5'8"), had put on the Confederate gray. My mother, with tears all streaming down her cheeks, stood in the hall, at the foot of the stairs. Throwing her arms about my neck she said, "Put your trust in God and He will bring you through. I would rather you would die in battle than desert." And those were her last words of farewell.
Too full of emotion to utter one word, I left her with those words indelibly stamped on my conscience and memory. I was at once a man. From that moment I was a changed being.
In all the crack and onslaught of battle I did not stay there because I was brave but because my other told me to. And I know that was the experience of thousands of others who suffered the pangs of hunger, cold and heat, shot and shell, sickness and death, on account of the loved ones at home.
They gave their sons, husbands, and brothers, lovers, all and received back a fragment of battered and torn limbs, and they nursed them back into the greatest industrial struggle the world has even known.
Yes, give the women the monument.

W. F. Smith
Captain, Confederate States of America
McDonough, GA
April 23, 1909

This letter to the editor is copyrighted and published in the book Rival Lovers by William Ferguson Smith, edited by Harriet Stovall Kelley.

Rival Lovers
A story of the War Between the States
by William Ferguson Smith
Edited by Harriet Stovall Kelley



Written more than 125 years ago, Rivals is a story of a young Georgia boy who went away to war in 1863, fell in love and into great adventure and returned to write of his experience. It is a courtly tale of romance that lay lost and forgotten until his great niece discovered the original text while cleaning out the old Smith Family home in Flovilla, GA in 1971.

The second half of the book contains a biographical sketch and other writings by Smith, who became one of his county's leading and most conscientious citizens.

Meaning

When I die, I will see the lining of the world.
The other side, beyond bird, mountain, sunset.
The true meaning, ready to be decoded.
What never added up will add Up,
What was incomprehensible will be comprehended.
- And if there is no lining to the world?
If a thrush on a branch is not a sign,
But just a thrush on the branch? If night and day
Make no sense following each other?
And on this earth there is nothing except this earth?
- Even if that is so, there will remain
A word wakened by lips that perish,
A tireless messenger who runs and runs
Through interstellar fields, through the revolving galaxies,
And calls out, protests, screams.

Czeslaw Milosz

Intimations of Mortality

on being told by the dentist that this will be over soon


Indeed, it will soon be over, I shall be done
With the querulous drill, the forceps, the clove-smelling cotton.
I can go forth into fresher air, into sun,
This narrow anguish forgotten.

In twenty minutes or forty or half an hour,
I shall be easy, and proud of my hard-got gold,
But your apple of comfort is eaten by worms, and sour.
Your consolation is cold.

This will not last, and the day will be pleasant after.
Ill dine tonight with a witty and favorite friend.
No doubt tomorrow I shall rinse my mouth with laughter.
And also that will end.

The handful of time that I am charily granted
Will likewise pass, to oblivion duly apprenticed.
Summer will blossom and autumn be faintly enchanted.
Then time for the grave, or the dentist.

Because you are shrewd, my man, and your hand is clever,
You must not believe your words have a charm to spell me.
There was never a half of an hour that lasted forever.
Be quiet. You need not tell me.

Phyllis McGinley

Jehovah Tsidkenu

by Robert Murray McCheyne


I once was a stranger to grace and to God,
I knew not my danger, and felt not my load;
Though friends spoke in rapture of Christ on the tree,
Jehovah Tsidkenu was nothing to me.

I oft read with pleasure, to sooth or engage,
Isaiah’s wild measure and John’s simple page;
But e’en when they pictured the blood sprinkled tree
Jehovah Tsidkenu seemed nothing to me.

Like tears from the daughters of Zion that roll,
I wept when the waters went over His soul;
Yet thought not that my sins had nailed to the tree
Jehovah Tsidkenu—’twas nothing to me.

When free grace awoke me, by light from on high,
Then legal fears shook me, I trembled to die;
No refuge, no safety in self could I see—
Jehovah Tsidkenu my Saviour must be.

My terrors all vanished before the sweet name;
My guilty fears banished, with boldness I came
To drink at the fountain, life giving and free—
Jehovah Tsidkenu is all things to me.

Jehovah Tsidkenu! my treasure and boast,
Jehovah Tsidkenu! I ne’er can be lost;
In thee I shall conquer by flood and by field,
My cable, my anchor, my breast-plate and shield!

Even treading the valley, the shadow of death,
This “watchword” shall rally my faltering breath;
For while from life’s fever my God sets me free,
Jehovah Tsidkenu, my death song shall be.

Why Do Birds Sing?

Let poets piece prismatic words,
Give me the jewelled joy of birds!

What ecstasy moves them to sing?
Is it the lyric glee of Spring,
The dewy rapture of the rose?
Is it the worship born in those
Who are of Nature's self a part,
The adoration of the heart?

Is it the mating mood in them
That makes each crystal note a gem?
Oh mocking bird and nightingale,
Oh mavis, lark and robin - hail!
Tell me what perfect passion glows
In your inspired arpeggios?

A thrush is thrilling as I write
Its obligato of delight;
And in its fervour, as in mine,
I fathom tenderness divine,
And pity those of earthy ear
Who cannot hear . . . who cannot hear.

Let poets pattern pretty words:
For lovely largesse - bless you, Birds!

Robert W. Service

The Rose Family


The rose is a rose,
And was always a rose.
But the theory now goes
That the apple's a rose,
And the pear is, and so's
The plum, I suppose.
The dear only knows
What will next prove a rose.
You, of course, are a rose-But were always a rose.

Robert Frost

Illlustration by Redoute

Lord, Make a Regular Man Out of Me

This I would like to be - braver and bolder,
Just a bit wiser because I am older,
Just a bit kinder to those I may meet,
Just a bit manlier taking defeat;
This for the New Year my wish and my plea -
Lord, make a regular man out of me.

This I would like to be - just a bit finer,
More of a smiler and less of a whiner,
Just a bit quicker to stretch out my hand
Helping another who's struggling to stand,
This is my prayer for the New Year to be,
Lord, make a regular man out of me.

This I would like to be - just a bit fairer,
Just a bit better, and just a bit squarer,
Not quite so ready to censure and bland,
Quicker to help every man in the game,
Not quite so eager men's failings to see,
Lord, make a regular man out of me.

This I would like to be - just a bit truer,
Less of the wisher and more of the doer,
Broader and bigger, more willing to give,
Living and helping my neighbor to live!
This for the New Year my prayer and my plea -
Lord, make a regular man out of me.

Edgar Albert Guest

Advice to Writers
For the Daily Press

When you've got a thing to say,
Say it! Dont take half a day.
When your tale's got little in it,
Crowed the whole thing in a minute!
Life is short - a fleeting vapor -
Don't you fill the whole blamed paper
With a tale which, at a pinch,
Could be cornered in an inch!
Boil her down until she simmers,
Polish her until she glimmers.

Joel Chandler Harris

Paul Revere's Ride

by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

Some poems are long, some short, some rhyme, some dont. Some tell a story.
So, in honor of the anniversary of this midnight ride, I commend to the attention of all my readers, this excellent poem.

Time Is

Time is
Too Slow for those who Wait,
Too Swift for those who Fear,
Too Long for those who Grieve,
Too Short for those who Rejoice;
But for those who Love,
Time is not.

by Henry Van Dyke
1852-1933

Up from the grave He arose

Low in the grave He lay, Jesus my Savior,
Waiting the coming day, Jesus my Lord!

Refrain

Up from the grave He arose,
With a mighty triumph o’er His foes,
He arose a Victor from the dark domain,
And He lives forever, with His saints to reign.
He arose! He arose!
Hallelujah! Christ arose!

Vainly they watch His bed, Jesus my Savior;
Vainly they seal the dead, Jesus my Lord!

Refrain

Death cannot keep its Prey, Jesus my Savior;
He tore the bars away, Jesus my Lord!

Refrain

Words & Music: Ro­bert Low­ry, 1874

Hall of Thorns



Tread lightly among the thorny growth
Below the eaves of filtered sun and
Dead, brown limbs of barbs still sharp with use.
Dare to lift your head and see the greenly growth,
A crown of leaf above the thorn and
Arching boughs that sprout anew with
Fresh rows of thorns on limbs of green.
A roof of sun, held by beams of the live
And dead branches,
Beams that twine and gather to form
A hall of thorns,
lit by blossoms, white and fading,
like flickering lights in the shadows
of the briary corridor.
Tapestries of white and golden hue
To grace
A hall of thorns.

Margaret Jago
May 2002

The Lamb

Little Lamb, who made thee?
Dost thou know who made thee?
Gave thee life, and bid thee feed,
By the stream and o'er the mead;
Gave thee clothing of delight,
Softest clothing, woolly, bright;
Gave thee such a tender voice,
Making all the vales rejoice?
Little Lamb, who made thee?
Dost thou know who made thee?

Little Lamb, I'll tell thee,
Little Lamb, I'll tell thee.
He is called by thy name,
For He calls Himself a Lamb.
He is meek, and He is mild;
He became a little child.
I a child, and thou a lamb,
We are called by His name.
Little Lamb, God bless thee!
Little Lamb, God bless thee!

William Blake
English Poet
1757-1827

Image "Worthy"
by Amy Crews
American Artist

To My Family Doctor

A woman's work is never done
That's what they always say,
But what about your Doctor
Where does he end his day?
His day starts with an office full
Of people who complain,
And need to give the small details
Of all their aches and pains

When office hours are over
You'd think that would be all,
Then he sits down for dinner
And here comes that frantic call:
"My baby has a fever,"
"My husband has a cough,"
"My big toe hurts so badly
Could you PLEASE just cut it off"

We really haven't got a clue
Of the things he must endure,
While listening to our problems
And seeking out a cure,
Let's be kind to our Doctor
Cause it's not an easy life,
So have compassion for him
And sympathy for his wife.

by Linda Brown
copyright 2004

Always Marry An April Girl


Praise the spells and bless the charms,
I found April in my arms.
April golden, April cloudy,
Gracious, cruel, tender, rowdy;
April soft in flowered languor,
April cold with sudden anger,
Ever changing, ever true --
I love April, I love you.

Ogden Nash

Whole Duty of Children


A child should always say what's true
And speak when he is spoken to,
And behave mannerly at table;
At least as far as he is able.

Robert Louis Stevenson

Myself

by Edgar Guest

I have to live with myself, and so
I want to be fit for myself to know,
I want to be able, as days go by,
Always to look myself straight in the eye;
I don't want to stand, with the setting sun,
And hate myself for things I have done.

I don't want to keep on a closet shelf
A lot of secrets about myself,
And fool myself, as I come and go,
Into thinking that nobody else will know
The kind of man I really am;
I don't want to dress up myself in sham.

I want to go out with my head erect,
I want to deserve all men's respect;
But here in the struggle for fame and pelf
I want to be able to like myself.
I don't want to look at myself and know
That I'm bluster and bluff and empty show.

I can never hide myself from me;
I see what others may never see;
I know what others may never know,
I never can fool myself, and so,
Whatever happens, I want to be
Self-respecting and conscience free.

The Strife is o'er

The strife is o’er, the battle done;
The victory of life is won;
The song of triumph has begun: Alleluia!

Refrain

Alleluia! Alleluia! Alleluia!

The powers of death have done their worst;
But Christ their legions hath dispersed;
Let shouts of holy joy outburst: Alleluia!

Refrain

The three sad days are quickly sped;
He rises glorious from the dead;
All glory to our risen Head! Alleluia!

Refrain

He closed the yawning gates of hell;
The bars from heaven’s high portals fell;
Let hymns of praise His triumphs tell! Alleluia!

Refrain

Lord, by the stripes which wounded Thee,
From death’s dread sting Thy servants free,
That we may live, and sing to Thee: Alleluia!

Refrain

Miracles
by Walt Whitman

Why, who makes much of a miracle?
As to me, I know of nothing else but miracles,
Whether I walk the streets of Manhattan,
Or dart my sight over the roofs of houses toward the sky,
Or wade with naked feet along the beach just in the edge of the water,
Or stand under trees in the woods,
Or talk by day with anyone I love, or sleep in the bed at night with anyone I love,
Or sit at table at dinner with the rest,
Or look at strangers opposite me riding in the car,
Or watch honeybees busy around the hive of a summer forenoon,
Or animals feeding in the fields,
Or birds, or the wonderfulness of insects in the air,
Or the wonderfulness of the sundown, or of stars shining so quiet and bright,
Or the exquisite delicate curve of the new moon in spring;
These with the rest, one and all are to me miracles,
The whole referring, yet each distinct and in its place.
To me every hour of the light and dark is a miracle,
Every cubic inch of space is miracle,
Every square yard of the surface of the earth is spread with the same,
Every foot of the interior swarms with the same.
To me the sea is a continual miracle,
The fishes that swim--the rocks--the motion of the waves--the ships with men in them,
What stranger miracles are there?

The Female of the Species

by Rudyard Kipling



When the Himalayan peasant meets the he-bear in his pride,
He shouts to scare the monster who will often turn aside.
But the she-bear thus accosted rends the peasant tooth and nail,
For the female of the species is more deadly than the male.

When Nag, the wayside cobra, hears the careless foot of man,
He will sometimes wriggle sideways and avoid it if he can,
But his mate makes no such motion where she camps beside the trail -
For the female of the species is more deadly than the male.

When the early Jesuit fathers preached to Hurons and Choctaws,
They prayed to be delivered from the vengeance of the squaws -
'Twas the women, not the warriors, turned those stark enthusiasts pale -
For the female of the species is more deadly than the male.

Man's timid heart is bursting with the things he must not say,
For the Woman that God gave him isn't his to give away;
But when hunter meets with husband, each confirms the others tale -
The female of the species is more deadly than the male.

Man, a bear in most relations, worm and savage otherwise,
Man propounds negotiations, Man accepts the compromise;
Very rarely will he squarely push the logic of a fact
To its ultimate conclusion in unmitigated act.

Fear, or foolishness, impels him, ere he lay the wicked low,
To concede some form of trial even to his fiercest foe.
Mirth obscene diverts his anger; Doubt and Pity oft perplex
Him in dealing with an issue - to the scandal of the Sex!

But the Woman that God gave him, every fibre of her frame
Proves her launched for one sole issue, armed and engined for the same,
And to serve that single issue, lest the generations fail,
The female of the species must be deadlier than the male.

She who faces Death by torture for each life beneath her breast
May not deal in doubt or pity - must not swerve for fact or jest.
These be purely male diversions - not in these her honor dwells -
She, the Other Law we live by, is that Law and nothing else!

She can bring no more to living than the powers that make her great
As the Mother of the Infant and the Mistress of the Mate;
And when Babe and Man are lacking and she strides unclaimed to claim
Her right as femme (and baron), her equipment is the same.

She is wedded to convictions - in default of grosser ties;
Her contentions are her children, Heaven help him, who denies!
He will meet no cool discussion, but the instant, white-hot wild
Wakened female of the species warring as for spouse and child.

Unprovoked and awful charges - even so the she-bear fights;
Speech that drips, corrodes and poisons - even so the cobra bites;
Scientific vivisection of one nerve till it is raw,
And the victim writhes with anguish - like the Jesuit with the squaw!

So it comes that Man, the coward, when he gathers to confer
With his fellow-braves in council, dare not leave a place for her
Where, at war with Life and Conscience, he uplifts his erring hands
To some God of abstract justice - which no woman understands.

And Man knows it! Knows, moreover, that the Woman that God gave him
Must command but may not govern; shall enthrall but not enslave him.
And She knows, because She warns him and Her instincts never fail,
That the female of Her species is more deadly than the male!

The Naming of Cats

by T.S. Eliot

The Naming of Cats is a difficult matter,
It isn't just one of your holiday games;
You may think at first I'm as mad as a hatter
When I tell you, a cat must have THREE DIFFERENT NAMES.
First of all, there's the name that the family use daily,
Such as Peter, Augustus, Alonzo or James,
Such as Victor or Jonathan, George or Bill Bailey--
All of them sensible everyday names.
There are fancier names if you think they sound sweeter,
Some for the gentlemen, some for the dames:
Such as Plato, Admetus, Electra, Demeter--
But all of them sensible everyday names.
But I tell you, a cat needs a name that's particular,
A name that's peculiar, and more dignified,
Else how can he keep up his tail perpendicular,
Or spread out his whiskers, or cherish his pride?
Of names of this kind, I can give you a quorum,
Such as Munkustrap, Quaxo, or Coricopat,
Such as Bombalurina, or else Jellylorum-
Names that never belong to more than one cat.
But above and beyond there's still one name left over,
And that is the name that you never will guess;
The name that no human research can discover--
But THE CAT HIMSELF KNOWS, and will never confess.
When you notice a cat in profound meditation,
The reason, I tell you, is always the same:
His mind is engaged in a rapt contemplation
Of the thought, of the thought, of the thought of his name:
His ineffable effable
Effanineffable
Deep and inscrutable singular Name.

from Old Possum's Book of Practical Cats

PS Comments should be working as you see I have chosen a new template and the updated model allowed by specifications to work :)

Sick

"I cannot go to school today,"
Said little Peggy Ann McKay.
"I have the measles and the mumps,
A gash, a rash and purple bumps.
My mouth is wet, my throat is dry,
I'm going blind in my right eye.
My tonsils are as big as rocks,
I've counted sixteen chicken pox
And there's one more--that's seventeen,
And don't you think my face looks green?
My leg is cut--my eyes are blue--
It might be instamatic flu.
I cough and sneeze and gasp and choke,
I'm sure that my left leg is broke--
My hip hurts when I move my chin,
My belly button's caving in,
My back is wrenched, my ankle's sprained,
My 'pendix pains each time it rains.
My nose is cold, my toes are numb.
I have a sliver in my thumb.
My neck is stiff, my voice is weak,
I hardly whisper when I speak.
My tongue is filling up my mouth,
I think my hair is falling out.
My elbow's bent, my spine ain't straight,
My temperature is one-o-eight.
My brain is shrunk, I cannot hear,
There is a hole inside my ear.
I have a hangnail, and my heart is--what?
What's that? What's that you say?
You say today is. . .Saturday?
G'bye, I'm going out to play!"

Shel Silverstein

Love this poem and just about all of his. We read the books and listened to them on tape.

What Life Have You?

What life have you if you have not life together?
There is no life that is not in community,
And no community not lived in praise of GOD.
Even the anchorite who meditates alone,
For whom the days and nights repeat the praise of GOD,
Prays for the Church, the Body of Christ incarnate.
And now you live dispersed on ribbon roads,
And no man knows or cares who is his neighbor
Unless his neighbor makes too much disturbance,
But all dash to and fro in motor cars,
Familiar with the roads and settled nowhere
Nor does the family even move about together,
But every son would have his motorcycle,
And daughters ride away on casual pillions.

Much to cast down, much to build, much to restore;
Let the work not delay, time and the arm not waste;
Let the clay be dug from the pit, let the saw cut the stone,
Let the fire not be quenched in the forge.

T.S. Eliot (1888-1965)
From *The Rock*

NOTE: To my readers: I cant figure out why comments cant be posted, so I am listing my xanga site, so you can *talk* to me there.

Outwitted

Poem of the day, short after two long ones.

He drew a circle that shut me out --
Heretic, rebel, a thing to flout.
But Love and I had the wit to win:
We drew a circle that took him in!

Edwin Markham

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How Sweet and Awful Is the Place

I cry every.single.time we sing this in church. Listen.

How sweet and aweful is this place
With Christ within the doors,
While everlasting love displays
The choicest of her stores!

Here every bowel of our God
With soft compassion rolls;
Here peace and pardon bought with blood
Is food for dying souls.

While all our hearts and all our songs
Join to admire the feast,
Each of us cry, with thankful tongues,
“Lord, why was I a guest?

“Why was I made to hear Thy voice,
And enter while there’s room,
When thousands make a wretched choice,
And rather starve than come?”

’Twas the same love that spread the feast
That sweetly drew us in;
Else we had still refused to taste,
And perished in our sin.

Pity the nations, O our God!
Constrain the earth to come;
Send Thy victorious Word abroad,
And bring the strangers home.

We long to see Thy churches full,
That all the chosen race
May with one voice, and heart and soul,
Sing Thy redeeming grace.

by Isaac Watts

I commend to you this article about Watts' writing.

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The Betrothed

This poem is posted in honor of LPMcD, whose 71st birthday would have been today. He read this poem at the dinner table one night in 1980, and ever since it has been a favorite of mine. Why he loved this poem, I will never know...since he was not a smoker. However, he did like Kipling.


"You must choose between me and your cigar."
-- BREACH OF PROMISE CASE, CIRCA 1885.

Open the old cigar-box, get me a Cuba stout,
For things are running crossways, and Maggie and I are out.

We quarrelled about Havanas -- we fought o'er a good cheroot,
And I knew she is exacting, and she says I am a brute.

Open the old cigar-box -- let me consider a space;
In the soft blue veil of the vapour musing on Maggie's face.

Maggie is pretty to look at -- Maggie's a loving lass,
But the prettiest cheeks must wrinkle, the truest of loves must pass.

There's peace in a Larranaga, there's calm in a Henry Clay;
But the best cigar in an hour is finished and thrown away --

Thrown away for another as perfect and ripe and brown --
But I could not throw away Maggie for fear o' the talk o' the town!

Maggie, my wife at fifty -- grey and dour and old --
With never another Maggie to purchase for love or gold!

And the light of Days that have Been the dark of the Days that Are,
And Love's torch stinking and stale, like the butt of a dead cigar --

The butt of a dead cigar you are bound to keep in your pocket --
With never a new one to light tho' it's charred and black to the socket!

Open the old cigar-box -- let me consider a while.
Here is a mild Manila -- there is a wifely smile.

Which is the better portion -- bondage bought with a ring,
Or a harem of dusky beauties, fifty tied in a string?

Counsellors cunning and silent -- comforters true and tried,
And never a one of the fifty to sneer at a rival bride?

Thought in the early morning, solace in time of woes,
Peace in the hush of the twilight, balm ere my eyelids close,

This will the fifty give me, asking nought in return,
With only a Suttee's passion -- to do their duty and burn.

This will the fifty give me. When they are spent and dead,
Five times other fifties shall be my servants instead.

The furrows of far-off Java, the isles of the Spanish Main,
When they hear my harem is empty will send me my brides again.

I will take no heed to their raiment, nor food for their mouths withal,
So long as the gulls are nesting, so long as the showers fall.

I will scent 'em with best vanilla, with tea will I temper their hides,
And the Moor and the Mormon shall envy who read of the tale of my brides.

For Maggie has written a letter to give me my choice between
The wee little whimpering Love and the great god Nick o' Teen.

And I have been servant of Love for barely a twelvemonth clear,
But I have been Priest of Cabanas a matter of seven year;

And the gloom of my bachelor days is flecked with the cheery light
Of stums that I burned to Friendship and Pleasure and Work and Fight.

And I turn my eyes to the future that Maggie and I must prove,
But the only light on the marshes is the Will-o'-the-Wisp of Love.

Will it see me safe through my journey or leave me bogged in the mire?
Since a puff of tobacco can cloud it, shall I follow the fitful fire?

Open the old cigar-box -- let me consider anew --
Old friends, and who is Maggie that I should abandon you?

A million surplus Maggies are willing to bear the yoke;
And a woman is only a woman, but a good Cigar is a Smoke.

Light me another Cuba -- I hold to my first-sworn vows.
If Maggie will have no rival, I'll have no Maggie for Spouse!

Rudyard Kipling

Day Before April

The day before April
Alone, alone,
I walked in the woods
And sat on a stone.

I sat on a broad stone
And sang to the birds.
The tune was God's making
But I made the words

Mary Carolyn Davies

Kudos to me!! I walked the neighborhood and fyi this hill is only one of nine uphills I encounter. Yes, I want a brownie point. The reason this is so important is that most of my winter walking has been in two local parks, where it is flat, flat, flat. So, the neighborhood *course* is more aerobic :) and therefore, more fat burning!

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