Literary Firestorm. #T

Sadly, the title is no joke.

I have never read the Harry Potter series, but everyone between the ages of nine and twenty-five has, so this is a serious cultural issue.

J.K.Rowling, kazillionaire thanks to the sales of her literary efforts, recently stated that she "made a mistake" in pairing Hermione with the wrong warlock or wizard, or whatever the little devils were.  What?  This woman attributes to herself god-like-powers of determination of the paths her characters take?  That's not right.  She created the characters, true, but surely they take on lives of their own.  By her own admission, predetermination of the outcome was not a factor, for she herself said that she had envisioned Harry with the heroine, but it was not to be.*

Fictional characters, just as non-fictional, or less-fictional ones, go willy-nilly through their lives, bumping into each other, ricocheting or bonding as the case may be.  What has some woman in Britain to do with the outcomes?

Oh, let me guess.  Vanilla's Friday morning forecast:  Ms. Rowling will be releasing a new book very soon.

*One will credit an author with power of naming her characters.  JKR might have chosen a name other than "Hermione," say Elizabeth or Penelope.  As it is, the secondary prediction from this seat is that this generation of young women just graduating college will be naming their daughters "Hermione."

And so what if I throw a little fuel on the fire?
What do you think?

Sally Ride

 

Sally Ride, May 26, 1951 - July 23, 2012 RIP

Onward Christian Soldiers

I have been doing a lot of reading lately. Certain Christian books and blogs have attracted my attention. What I am finding saddens me. Are Christians the only group in the world that leaves its wounded on the field of battle? The focus of many of the writers seems to be more on what is wrong with you, professor of Christ, than it is on Christ. Jesus is the focal point of Christianity. Without Christ and him resurrected and living today, the whole thing is a house of cards. But how are we to win the world if our efforts are directed toward condemning our own? They shoot horses, don't they? Yes, and some Christians seem determined to shoot fellow-Christians who have fallen along the way.

I believe Jesus, as he stepped into the boat and had it pushed away from the shore of Gennesseret because of the press of the crowd, addressed this very issue in the parable of the wheat and the tares.

The kingdom of heaven, he said, is likened unto a man which sowed good seed in his field: But while men slept, his enemy came and sowed tares among the wheat, and went his way. But when the blade was sprung up, and brought forth fruit, then appeared the tares also. So the servants of the householder came and said unto him, Sir, didst not thou sow good seed in thy field? from whence then hath it tares? He said unto them, An enemy hath done this. The servants said unto him, Wilt thou then that we go and gather them up? But he said, Nay; lest while ye gather up the tares, ye root up also the wheat with them. Let both grow together until the harvest: and in the time of harvest I will say to the reapers, Gather ye together first the tares, and bind them in bundles to burn them: but gather the wheat into my barn.

Yes, there are weeds growing within the Church, but Jesus is quite explicit regarding his instructions. Is it not likely that the Master can take care of the harvest? Would he not be able to differentiate between the grain and the weeds?

So why are we out there attacking one another? Your theology isn't sound. Your worship style is wrong. That's why. No, it is because we are not abiding by the commands of the Master. That's why.



Image: Jesus Teaching from a Boat by Annie Vallotton

Valentine

The Rec Hall is the center of activities for this community, and it is well-used indeed. I prefer to refer to this place as the "Social Hall" or "Activity Center," for "Rec" evokes images in my mind that I prefer to avoid. "Rec" is homonymous with "wreck" which in turn leads to thinking of people of a certain age...

Well, you see where my mind goes with this, so bear with me, and allow me to refer to the place as the activity center. And incidentally, here is another thing that sort of bothers me, the banner displayed here. And why would this bother me? First, I am not a recycled anything. It has taken me a lot of years to get to this place in my life. Which brings us to second, my teen years, if I had to choose a stage of life to re-live, would without doubt be the last stage I would choose. Oh, well, it is all in a spirit of good fun, so I try not to be offended. And true enough, some of the people do seem to be, if not in a second childhood, certainly in regression which might place them at about the teen stage of life. The power of suggestion?

This display appeared just in time for Valentine's Day, and herewith I wish you a happy Valentine's Day and joy and peace with those you love!

Oscar Mayer Entertains

The heart within the boy within me leaped with excitement when we drove into the super market parking lot Saturday morning.
These old eyes beheld a wonderful sight and transmitted the message to the boy. There directly in front of the store was the Wienermobile! On two different occasions in the past, I have passed, or been passed by, the Wienermobile as we traversed one of America’s interstate highways. But this is the first time I ever had an opportunity to view the vehicle up close and personal, so to speak.

Present were three wholesome and attractive young ladies, smiling, greeting the crowd and handing out mementos, trinkets by which the happy people might remember their visit. The side-door of the vehicle was open so that we could stick our heads inside and look around. There was a strap across the door suggesting that to tread within was not permitted.

This particular Mobile is in celebration of the 75th anniversary of the Wienermobile, and of course, it is not the same vehicle with which Oscar Mayer started this advertising ploy. In fact, the Wienermobile has gone through numerous permutations, and there was a display bulletin board on which pictures of a dozen of these traveling billboards were displayed.

I came away with this pretty little sticker and a Wienermobile whistle! Yet I regretted that I had forgot to fasten my camera on my belt this morning.

Calling Who?

Here is an anachronism on the premises. Every time I walk past it, I glance to see if it will be Clark Kent of Dr. Who who emerges therefrom. Given the Eighties American style, my guess is the former, if either.

How long has it been since you've seen a phone booth? I can remember when a call could be initiated for five cents, American. But of course, things escalated from there.

While standing in front of WalMart waiting for BBBH to complete her business within, I saw a man using a pay phone. It is almost imperative that one feel sorry for a poor, impoverished, and desperate person who has to resort to a public facility to make a call, while hordes of people are walking past him with cell phones plastered to their heads.

Well, we have cell phones; and we actually use them on occasion. A few months ago, the bill for that month reflected an actual cost of $38.02 per minute for usage. And we can remember when we were outraged at the unconscionable charge of sixty-five cents to call a friend in the adjoining county. Three minute limit, too, to avoid overages. Oh, Progress. You are a wicked lady.

The Year's Worst Day

Dr. Cliff Arnall of University of Cardiff (Wales) calculates that this is the worst day of the year as it applies to people's feelings, I guess about themselves and life in general. The unfortunate thing is that any day of the year is a bad day if one allows it to be. Professor Arnall has devised a mathematical-looking formula which one suspects has less to do with mathematics than it has to do with his endeavor to support a personal postulalte; but what do I know? He evidently sells his wisdom and knowledge to people in the tourism business, because it is when people are at their lowest that they are most likely to splurge on tickets, presumably to take them out of their misery.

It has been my observation that one can buy tickets to different geographic locales, but in all likelihood, if one is miserable, he will take his troubles along with him.

Here is a link to the article I read. Do the math if you like.
http://www.msnbc.msn.com/id/6847012/ns/world_news/t/jan-called-worst-day-year/

Meanwhile, happy Doldrums! Now there's an oxymoron.

(As BBBH says, Find a need and fill it...)

11th Hour, 11th Day, 11th Month

In previous years I have written about Armistice Day, and Veterans' Day. The important thing today is to remember that our past is filled with heroes who made our present possible. Remember them, honor them, particularly those who in service to their country defended our freedoms, many of them giving their all.

At 11:00 A.M. I will be on the courthouse square, along with as many of my fellow citizens who will brave the elements for a brief ceremony honoring those who served in the Armed Forces. The local high school will have a contingent from the band to provide patriotic mu

sic. It does my heart good to see that the next generation is learning about their past, and it ge

nerates hope within me that our future will be bright!

Update: We assembled on the courthouse lawn.

The Tipton High School band plays.

Judge Jack Richter honors Veterans.

Riflemen, 21-gun salute.

Auction!

Saturday we had the last CCF meeting of the year. This one is different. Instead of camping somewhere in Indiana for four days, we meet in a sort of central location (Marion, this year) and have a pitch-in dinner, or pot-luck if you are from those parts. The food is always fantastic, for everyone brings her, or his, best.

After we eat, there is an auction, for we have all brought a bunch of white elephants which are sold to raise funds for the activities of the group. I have been to four or five of these now, and it seems to me that some have a collection of items which they buy and resell the next year, rotating these around from home to home. But it is for a good cause. And a good time, as the saying goes, is had by all.

My best purchase was a baggie containing six chunks of homemade peanut butter fudge. I did a stint at "crying the sale" and a pretty poor job of it I did, too, notwithstanding my enthusiasm and strong-arm sales tactics. Oh, it must be that I was stuck with trying to sell the least desirable items!

The best part is visiting with friends, some of whom we saw a month ago at a camp-out, and some of whom we haven't seen in a good while. Most we will not see again until April, or even May if we don't get back from Texas in time for the April outing.

Sixty and Counting Down

November First. There are exactly sixty days left in 2011, and in those sixty days will be crammed:

Daylight "savings" time is over. Rejoice! 11-6

Municipal and off-year elections. Be sure to vote. Politics is local. 11-8

Veterans' Day: Remember those who served. I plan to be on the courthouse square at 11:00 A.M 11-11

Thanksgiving. Don't forget to praise and thank the Lord for blessings everyday, but celebrate on this Thursday. 11-24

Black Friday: For those of you who care, and aren't smart enough to stay in bed, well, the stores will be open way too early. 11-25

Pearl Harbor Day: It is important to remember our history. 12-7

Advent: Pay attention to the reason we celebrate Christmas.

Winter: The official calendar beginning of winter, no matter what weather we've had so far. 12-22

Christmas: Many people's favorite holiday. For some, as a celebration of Jesus's birth; for some the getting-and-giving of gifts; for some, just the "getting." And yes, for some a time to put on the "Grinch suit" and rain on everyone's parade. Christmas: you have to love it; something for everyone. 12-25

Boxing Day 12-26

New Year's Eve: Closing out another year, a year we hope has been joyous and satisfying, even if difficulties have been encountered along the way. Be thankful for your blessings, and be careful how you celebrate. 12-31

It's going to be an exciting sixty days!
(Print out and enter your own special days and celebrations, stick on refrigerator.)

Wait. Where's the Duck?

.........Mallard Fillmore.......

Open Wide!

Monday morning the demolition crew set to work on the recently vacated city office building, another "gap" in the architectural landscape in the making.

This building during the years I have lived here has served as a bank, or technically a building-and-loan facility, the police department, and most recently as the city offices and the offices of the utility department.

This move leaves the entire east side of Court Street void of buildings. The courthouse now has the street to itself.


I snapped this picture on the right about 10:20 in the morning. I sent it to the local newspaper, which published it on the front page Monday evening. They published the full shot, three columns wide, front page, directly under the banner. This example is cropped for effect.

Bringing in the Harvest

For the earth bringeth forth fruit of herself; first the blade, then the ear, after that the full corn in the ear.
But when the fruit is brought forth, immediately he putteth in the sickle, because the harvest is come. --Mark 4:28,29
I love the fall season for many reasons, not the least of which is the bringing in of the harvest. I have lived in an agricultural community for the past fifty-some years, and I am always amazed at the bringing in of the bounty from the fields.

While it is true that "harvest" is much more than the produce grown in this area, it is essentially the corn and the soybeans that capture my attention. They, along with some wheat which is a summer harvest, are the grains grown here.

Tomatoes, yes, we will see many loads of tomatoes on their way to the cannery. Apples are grown in the area, but the orchards are a bit far apart and apples are not a major crop. Well, they are, of course, to the people who have apple orchards.

No longer do we see the "check-rows" in the corn fields, but rather such tightly-woven stands of corn that one wonders how so many plants can thrive in such spaces as are allotted to them. The thrill of seeing the greens disappear from the fields as the plants yellow, then turn beige or brown is enhanced by the knowledge that soon the wagons will be rolling past with their bounty on the way to the terminal.

Truly, the harvest is great.

This Little Piggy Went to Market...

Our nod to the local festivities Saturday morning included the short bicycle ride to the downtown area. We parked the bikes and walked through the display areas, visiting briefly with those artists and vendors whom we know.
BBBH, of course, could not pass the "antique" store without checking for treasures. I visited next door with the local barber who did my hair for a quarter-century before I married a hair dresser. The wife located me to advise me that she needed bucks, because she had found the thing she had to have, though she didn't know it until she found it.



BBBH collects Rockwell gewjawry and gimcracks, prints and statuettes. She wanted two that she had located, and of course she got what she wanted! From there, then, we went to the official festival Pork Tent where we had barbeque sandwiches. While they were very tasty, it seemed as though the lid had fallen off the pepper can during the preparation. At the top of the page are the tops of a couple of youngsters who were sitting at the next table. Nice hairdos. You should have seen their mother. Or not. Common as it is these days, I just have a hard time accepting that tatoos are attractive on women.

Here are the gizmos that we brought home with us, along with the mandatory elephant ear, which we mostly consumed along the way.

As I say, that was our nod to the festival. Farewell!

Festival

I rode the bicycle to town and took care of the standard Friday errands. Then I passed through the Pork Festival venue around the Courthouse Square. It was a drizzly afternoon, and not much going on. A few young families strolling around with their children, the kidlets getting their faces transformed into monsters by the face-painter. No booths, though, were doing a land-office business. Most of the carnies were sitting in the back of their booths smoking, lending the acrid reek of cigarette smoke to the atmosphere. And it had been such a lovely day, the aroma of rain caressing the parched leaves on the too-long dry trees.

One supposes the vendors were either silently cursing the weather, or optimistically hoping that by eventide the weather might clear and the crowds would grow. Good luck to them, but I'm still praying for rain.

Passengers, Pizza, and Pork

I was riding the bicycle through our beautiful downtown, sweat dripping from my nose and running in rivulets down the crevices in my time-worn visage when I espied the fine-dining train. Yes, the train still comes to town. Sporadically.

It parks beside the Pizza Shack, Tipton's nod to gustatory delights, so that the passengers may disembark, stroll through our beautiful downtown, then return to the Shack to dine before boarding the train to return to its station at the Indiana Transportation Museum in Noblesville.

This street view of Tipton's downtown in the long-before-my-time is testimony to the fact that this was once a thriving mini-metropolis. The most striking feature of the picture, apart from the horseless carriages on the left side of the street, is the fact that other than the men in the barbershop, virtually all the males are wearing hats. And jackets. And ties. Oh, for the good old days! Yeah/no.

The caboose train will provide rides every half-hour on Friday and Saturday during the Pork Festival (Tipton, Indiana, September 8 - 10. Be there.) Train leaves from and returns to Pizza Shack.

Not All Change is Progress

At the crest of the generational divide we find another example of technological progress, casting off the old and clasping the new.

That penmanship and spelling are skills that have served us well for generations is indisputable. That they are disciplines requiring assiduous attention to detail and practice, practice, practice is evident. That the young reject it is as much a rebellion against discipline as it is an adoption of technological advances.

The older set, of which I am representative, is as averse to adopting the "new" as the younger set is to dragging with them the luggage of a past era.

So we have submitted. They win. Of course it never would enter the imagination that everything that relies on electrical power will be so much ash in the hand when there is no power.

Are They Now?

Merle's song was introduced thirty years ago. (This rendition is from 1983.) There is an expression of hope in the last lines. I wonder if that hope is still there today. I am not a doom-and-gloomer, but I am no Pollyanna, either. Things look dark indeed. Yet the cliche would assure us that it is always "darkest just before the dawn." I don't see that as a hopeful expectation, either, because it might be the case that it is not yet "darkest" and things may get worse before they get better.

In any event, putting aside economic circumstances, political division, and rampant nonsense, he or she who commits it all to God and walks with Jesus may suffer from these ills, but yet will not be overwhelmed by them. We will walk in peace with God, in spite of the swirling and raging storm without!

The LORD is my light and my salvation; whom shall I fear? the LORD is the strength of my life; of whom shall I be afraid?...
Wait on the LORD: be of good courage, and he shall strengthen thine heart: wait, I say, on the LORD. Psalm 27

A New School Year!

So here's what happened in Indiana.

Once upon a time, there were at the very least, elementary schools, most through eighth grade, within walking distance of most homes. But this is not good enough. We need bigger, brighter, air conditioned school-places. These were built. The little within-walking-distance schools were closed. School buses were purchased, routes were established. The kids now went to school with other kids whom they would never have known in the bad old days of the walk-to schools.

The consolidated schools built bigger and better schools, farther and farther away from the homes of the kiddies. More buses were purchased, routes were established such that some six-year old kids would now get to go to school thirteen miles from home, and they would get a wonderful hour-long bus ride. Twice a day. Board the bus before daylight in the dead of winter, and get home after dark. But they had a light, bright, warm and super-crowded environment during the day!

Then one day, the school systems discovered that they, like the federal government, had extended themselves well beyond their budgetary limitations. Unlike the federal government, they cannot go to China and borrow a pocketful of change. Gas prices escalated. Electricity costs rose. Staff salaries went up. Buses grew larger and more costly. And now we cannot afford to run the buses.

But there is a solution. We can charge the parents of the kiddies for those seemingly interminable daily bus rides! A recent news report states that a neighboring school district has settled on a figure of $475 for the first kid, $405 for each additional kid from the same home. I don't know about you, but I had four kids, all in school at the same time. That would work out to what? Here I'll do the math for you: $1690 a year for my kids to get to the "free" public school.

I'm not even going to editorialize here.

Farewell, July...

...we hardly knew ye.

(Because you kept us confined to the house, your miserable "heat indices" being too high to brave. Our camping was scratched, our discontent grew. You are the driest July in the annals of meteorological record keeping. You have left us, parched, brown, and miserable. Thanks.)