Poems By Veterans

O Captain, my Captain! by Walt Whitman

O Captain, my Captain! our fearful trip is done;

The ship has weathered every rack, the prize we sought is won;

The port is near, the bells I hear, the people all exulting,

While follow eyes the steady keel, the vessel grim and daring;

But O heart! heart! heart!

O the bleeding drops of red,

Where on the deck my Captain lies,

Fallen cold and dead.

O Captain! my Captain! rise up and hear the bells;

Rise up--for you the flag is flung--for you the bugle trills;

For you bouquets and ribboned wreaths--for you the shores a-crowding;

For you they call, the swaying mass, their eager faces turning;

Here Captain! dear father!

This arm beneath your head;

It is some dream that on the deck,

You've fallen cold and dead.

My Captain does not answer, his lips are pale and still;

My father does not feel my arm, he has no pulse nor will;

The ship is anchored safe and sound, its voyage closed and done;

From fearful trip, the victor ship comes in with object won;

Exult, O shores, and ring, O bells!

But I, with mournful tread,

Walk the deck my Captain lies,

Fallen cold and dead.

[The Captain is Lincoln; the Trip is the War; the Ship is the Union.]

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In Flanders Fields, by John McCrae

In Flanders fields the poppies blow
Between the crosses, row on row,
That mark our place, and in the sky
The larks, still bravely singing, fly
Scarce heard amid the guns below.

We are the Dead. Short days ago
We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow,
Loved, and were loved, and now we lie
In Flanders fields.

Take up our quarrel with the foe:
To you from failing hands we throw
The torch; be yours to hold it high.
If ye break faith with us who die
We shall not sleep, though poppies grow
In Flanders fields.

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I Have a Rendezvous With Death, by Alan Seeger

I have a rendezvous with Death
At some disputed barricade,
When Spring comes back with rustling shade
And apple-blossoms fill the air--
I have a rendezvous with Death
When Spring brings back blue days and fair.

It may be he shall take my hand
And lead me into his dark land
And close my eyes and quench my breath--
It may be I shall pass him still.
I have a rendezvous with Death
On some scarred slope of battered hill,
When Spring comes round again this year
And the first meadow-flowers appear.

God knows 'twere better to be deep
Pillowed in silk and scented down,
Where love throbs out in blissful sleep,
Pulse nigh to pulse, and breath to breath,
Where hushed awakenings are dear. . .
But I've a rendezvous with Death
At midnight in some flaming town,
When Spring trips north again this year,
And I to my pledged word am true;
I shall not fail that rendezvous.

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Does it make the hair rise on the back of your neck?

Wind 'em up!

There are roughly 30 or 31 weeks left in this year. I'm going to try to complete one unfinished project every week. There are two quilts nearly done, about a dozen quilt tops, the doll house makeover, and a few (or a lot) that I don't even remember. I just barely got started making a pink-and-black yoyo quilt. I don't feel like mentioning a couple of unfinished novels, and beaucoup short stories that need to be rewritten. But I'll just take them one at a time and see how far I get.

Yesterday Ramey and I went to a couple of thrift stores. I got some baskets to use in my office. One is a waste paper basket, and the others I'm going to arrange in my metal bookcase to hold office supplies. I also bought one book, a Corning ware casserole, and a plumb beautiful bed skirt for the guest room bed. The bed skirt is about 4 inches too big lengthwise and crosswise, so I have to work on it some. The colors are rose and gold and green, and some yellowish beige or ivory, which changes the color scheme for that room, which was mostly blue. But that's OK, I know what I'm going to do with it, and won't have to buy anything. Else.

There are also several Teaching Company courses on DVD that I haven't watched, so I want to do that.

I'm going to wash all the quilts, and then I want my sisters and my sons and nieces and all to come to a quilt-picking. I've got so many that they're stacked in all the closets and corners, and I really don't need more than two, but probably can't part with as many as I need to get rid of.

Best Novels of the Western World

How many times in my life have I thought to myself, "This is the best book I've ever read!" And then, later, "No, that one wasn't, but this one is."

A few days ago I saw Kim lying in a pile I had brought up from the basement, and picked it up. All I remembered about it was the movie with Errol Flynn, and that little boy who called Mahbub Ali "Muhboobly;" apparently I had never read the book. It has Jenny's notes in it. It was hard to read, the print being so tiny and the pages so age-darkened. About a third of the way through it, I found it on free Kindle, and although easier on myopic eyesight, it was aggravating, with all the misspelled words and missing parts. I had to peer into the paperback many times to make sense of garbled passages on Kindle. I finally finished reading it this morning.

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If anybody ever tells you that Rudyard Kipling was not a serious writer, just read Kim. If you remember it from the movie and think you wouldn't like the book, be assured that Kim doesn't remain a little boy all the way through. And Mahbub wasn't anything like Errol Flynn. I'm going to look for a newer edition with larger type, so I can re-read it whenever I want to.

No-Travel Day

This morning I looked down the street and saw the mail truck coming. So I didn't have to take my package to the P.O. because I gave it to the mail lady. She said she started early today because of all the Memorial Day mailings.

I haven't abandoned my project of reading the Bible this year. I've just transferred all my religious readings, and future comments, to another blog for the time being. I may shift it back at any time, so y'all (and me), be good.

The mail lady also handed me a long narrow package which contained Mme. Alexander's Alice. She's not as perfect as she appeared in the photos, clothes a little soiled, but that's OK. I hope someone buys the two that I've got listed on eBay.

I watched the last half of the President's news conference today, and I almost cried for him. He's between a rock and a hard place on this oil spill crisis. Reminds me of when I used to watch Richard Nixon being sincere, and felt the tears rise in my nose.

All Work and No Play

I'm getting tired of this. Anyway, I finished cleaning the stairs today. Now I've got to de-grime myself in the shower and pack some glasses to ship, and go to the P.O. to get some priority mail boxes, and go to the store for cat food and detergent so I can finish a few piles of laundry.

I bought this set of juice or wine glasses in 1960 as a gift to Flora Cage. She never used them, and they stood in her cabinet for 30 years or so. When she moved to the retirement home, she gave them back to me. I've never used them, and they've stood in my cabinet for 20 years or so. Although I sold them for a lot less than they were worth, even in 1960, I'm still glad to see the last of them and get the freed-up space.

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I finished reading the book of Acts yesterday. I had read it before but had forgot all the trials and suffering that Paul went through, how hard he worked and how constantly he traveled. When they were shipwrecked, he picked up some firewood and a poisonous snake grabbed ahold of his hand; they waited for him to keel over dead, but he just shook the snake off into the fire and kept on preaching, or whatever he was doing.

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I reckon Luke wrote the book of the Acts, because it's addressed to Theophilus, like his gospel. And he apparently traveled with Paul a lot, because he kept saying "we" did or saw this or that.

Down and Dirty

Made another stab at the basement today. The stairs have nails (points) sticking out at the bottom of the risers. If I can get the stairs ready to be painted and/or carpeted, and get the rest of the junk hauled out to the curb, I'll call it My Work Done, as far as the basement goes.
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On Politics: I call myself an apolitical being. However, I did vote for our honorable President Obama, and several before him, for which I repent from time to time. Now that this one has insulted Netanyahu and barred Billy Graham's son from the Pentagon prayer meeting, I'm wishing I could take my vote back. Whether or not those were the right things to do, from whatever standpoint, I strongly object to them. And if he promised to divide Jerusalem, which is controversial, I'm prepared to call that strongly objectionable, too.

Shades of "The West Wing!"

None of the above inspires me to run to the Republicans or any other kind of icons. So hear this, ye vote-seekers: I'll never vote for another one, I guar-on-tee.

I hope this declaration exempts me from expectations of further political action or discussion.
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On other fronts, not much is going on today. We had some rain last night, which was nice. I've got a big tomato plant which grew up on its own in my back flower bed, so I'm gonna go give it some plant food.

I Affirm--

Not wanting to swear, I affirm that I will not bid on anything else on eBay! I won't, I won't, I won't! Unless I see another doll that I can't resist bidding on, like this Alice that I accidentally won.

I'm selling some Mme. Alex dolls, or hoping somebody will buy them. But I went sort of crazy when I saw this one. Who wouldn't? Anway, she and my Pinkie Baby are the only ones that I want to keep. Pinkie was made in 1935; it's stamped on the back of her neck.

Someday I'm going to make Pinkie an outfit like this one that SDS made for Mama.

Never Cry Wolf

I just watched an old movie (1983) on TCM, "Never Cry Wolf." Awesome. Even the naked man running with the caribou. It's from a book written in 1963, which I looked for on Amazon.com and was irritated to find that it isn't on Kindle. How quickly we become addicted to instant gratification!

Mo and I have had a pleasant day, most of it spent walking around and around the lot, enjoying the sun and the shade. I think Joe might have hit my JFK rose with the weed killer; it seems to be one of the few things in the front yard that look like they're dying.

This morning I went grocery shopping, for the first time in about a month, assuring myself I was only going to buy the few things that I really needed. $101.50. Well, everybody needs hot dogs and pineapple sherbet, grapes and grapefruit and chili in the can. I hadn't had a hot dog in ever-so-long, and found I could only eat one, when I usually have two when I'm hungry. Which reminds me, if my scale is anywhere near right, I've lost a few pounds since my med. checkup last month. I could afford to lose several more. I wish that, when the fat goes, the skin would shrink up a little instead of just hanging there.

Since I sent her my application by email and mailed a hard copy, I haven't heard back from Glenda about my dog. She said that two other people were interested in him. Probably some smug young couple with 1 1/2 kids and a fenced yard. Sometimes it's hard to love people.

Feeling Much Better Now

Yesterday morning I didn't feel so hot, but thought it was a hangover from the dinosaur dream. Then early yesterday afternoon, I got very sick, up-chucking, all that stuff. But afterwards, I felt a lot better, just sort of weak. Today I feel fine. Tip: Don't ever eat half of a spinach quiche late in the evening, if you don't want an upset stomach and a dinosaur in your yard.

So, although I did mail the books, I didn't get the eBay packages ready, so have to do that today.
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3:30 p.m.: Joe came by today and sprayed the flower beds for weeds. He also dug up 3 peony plants and replanted them, along with 2 in pots, before spraying. Now I've got 5 hydrangeas and 5 peonies under the trees in back, along with a couple of roses. Maybe someday I can call it a garden. I wish I had some of those great big smooth gray rocks back there that you see everywhere in Leeds except here.

I also wish I had got Willis to build a little gazebo when we talked about it last year. Willis was not in good health, and was very slow finishing a job. But he did good work and charged reasonably.

Catching Up

I made a list of all the things to do today: Packing and mailing stuff, catching up my laundry, putting away stacks of plates and other dishes that I've pulled out of the cabinets just to see what I've got that I had forgot about. Also getting back on schedule with my medicines and supplements; it gets hard to swallow all those pills, some of which would choke a horse. Some have to be broken in half, and those are even harder to swallow than the big whole ones.

About the stainless flatware set that I liked: I only put in one low bid, and the bidding spiraled upward, so I abandoned that idea. I have filled out the application form for the poodle dog, but will probably change my mind before the deal is done. That is, even if someone else doesn't get him first.

Gad! Friday I have that appointment for a Dexascan. I'm thinking about canceling it entirely.

Funny dream this morning just before I woke up: There was a dinosaur in the front yard, and Mo and I were staring at it, frozen with terror. But there was a big fallen tree lying on the grass, and I picked it up and waved it at the dinosaur, and it retreated around the back of the house. Then I went in and started trying to fortify the doors and walls so that it couldn't get in. Shoulda thought to call 911.

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Noon: I spent 2 hours packing a big set of books I have to mail. Then the FedEx man came and left me a package with 2 glasses to replace ones I've broken, and a gorgeous pink plate.

Then I walked around outside until I felt recovered from wrestling with the books. My old hydrangeas are just covered with buds, some beginning to open out. They're going to be pale blue. I've been watering them with a solution of some kind of plant food.

Bond James Bond

That's the name of this poodle dog who's available for adoption in Vinemont, Alabama. Sometimes I wish Commonsense would keep quiet until I get me a dog. I had already emailed back and forth with Glenda at the site, before I remembered that I don't want (need) any more pets. But isn't that the charmingest name for a dog? A poodle. A young male black poodle, with a white chest and white paws.

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His head looks about the size of the head of the lady holding him, so maybe he's a real standard poodle (or mix) instead of a miniature. But whatever his size or lineage, I would treat him like a prince of the blood.

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I tried to list the green china on Craigslist last night, but got sleepy before I figured it all out. I would sleep all day today, if I didn't have to get about 40 pounds of stuff ready to mail.

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7:45 p.m. For my dinner I made a spinach quiche, not really knowing what I was doing. But it turned out so good, I had to speak sharply to myself to keep from eating the other half, or picking at the crust around the edges. I should be ashamed of eating so much; but it'll never be as good again, after it gets cold.

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I wish my family, what's left of it, would revive our erstwhile practice of eating at each other's house once a week. Sunday dinner/supper, maybe. Everybody make something good and bring it. Or sometimes, or most of the time, just treat each other. Let's do that.

Worked all day on a hamburger and big orange

Joe mowed the grass today. We talked about the "flower" bed, which is mostly rocks and weeds. He said it would take him at least 14 hours to remove the rocks, clean out the bed and replace the rocks. I said why don't we just spray it with weed killer, wait for the weeds to die, and then decide about removing and replacing the rocks. I really don't think that's necessary. I think just cleaning it up, and spraying it with weed killer every spring, will be OK. I don't really care for flowers in the front yard anyway; wish I had planted all those roses at the back or side of the house. I like for the front to look green and neat.

Joe said he has a friend who could give us a good price on removing the three trees in front--two in the flower bed, and one sweet gum outside the bed that has already spread roots halfway across the front yard. The big oak that's covered with ivy looks like it's ready to fall. I'm afraid if one of them fell or was blown down, it would tear up the retaining wall. Trouble is, Joe said his friend just "works on the side," and is not bonded or insured. So maybe we need to get a quote from somebody else.

Anyway, Joe is coming over Thursday to apply the weed killer, if I don't call him and change it.
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I've spent today listing china and stuff on eBay. Well, just china. I've got Jenny's complete set, service for 8, of Franciscan "Silver Pine" fine china. Haven't listed it yet, because I hesitate to commit to shipping such a load of breakables. If anyone is interested in buying it offa me, I'll make you a good price. I'll make you a better price, if you'll pick it up. Tell your friends who need some pretty green and silver dinnerware.

After slaving all day over a hot computer, if I didn't deserve a hamburger and orange slush, I don't know when I ever will.

P.S. Another reason we need to remove the trees is that they drop acorns and stuff in the flower bed and the yard. There are about a million tiny sweet gum and oak trees in that bed, not to mention the poison oak and nettles, or whatever that sticky vine is.

P.P.S. I forget what else I wanted to add. Oh--I read a few pages in GWTW today. Will Benteen read the poem to Scarlett and Melanie and little Beau, just before they saw Ashley coming up the road to Tara. The poem was written on a piece of brown paper and pasted to the back of the Confederate note.

Lines written on the back of a Confederate note

My friends in the book club know that when anyone proposes a monthly selection about the Civil War, I more or less curl up into a ball and disappear, muttering epithets. It's not because I think I know more about it than anyone else, or that I think the subject is boring.

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At yesterday's meeting, we discussed The Elegance of the Hedgehog, which in my case I had not read, and one lady read a long passage which she said makes her cry. As she cried and cried, I thought about Gone With the Wind. I've read GWTW many, many times, but it always turns out the same way, with the South defeated, Scarlett desolate, and me crying my eyes out most of the way through it. I don't want to do that in public.

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Representing nothing on God's earth now,

And naught in the waters below it,

As the pledge of a nation that's passed away,

Keep it, dear friend, and show it;

Show it to those who will lend an ear

To the tale this trifle will tell,

Liberty born of patriots' dream

Of a storm-cradled nation that fell.

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Of course, it deserved to fall. But the whole thing is still too sad to think about much.

My favorite colors

You see more purple now than in past years, in fashion and home interiors, at least. I'm thinking of painting my bathroom walls about the color of the flowers on this old Avon bottle, with everything else in the room white. Some touches of celadon or darker green. These are the colors in the room already, but in the wrong places and proportions. And not enough white.

I have to get dressed and go to book club meeting, but a few minutes ago I spied this bottle sitting on the dresser, and had to think about it.

Here I Am...

...in my basement-cleaning costume. Which is not to say that the basement is clean, but you should have seen it before, etc.

While fighting the cobwebs and dirt, I was reminded of the only thing I remember about a novel by Josephine Tey called The Franchise Affair. The only thing I remember is that this single woman lived in a house about the size of Vita Sackville-West's, and when she "cleaned," she tied a cloth around her head and another one around her broom and fought cobwebs.

Vita Sackville-West's house (or castle) had 365 rooms. Every time anyone tried to count the windows, they came up with a different number.

The back half of my basement has only one little rusty-iron-barred window. But Jimmie is going to have the ceiling redone and more efficient lights installed. And, as the song says, who needs a window on such a sunny day?

("Clean House" crew, where are you?)
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Now I have to assemble two packages and drag myself to the post office, after I shower off all the spiders and stuff.

Consolation

Yesterday the garbage truck scattered some of the trash on the curb, and I spent a harrowing hour or so trying to clean it up (the trash truck probably comes on Thursday, though I thought it was Tuesday). I was so irritated, that I decided to console myself by buying something. Sometimes that's all that works.


I haven't bought it, but I may decide to bid on it--a full set, to replace my inadequate hodgepodge of "everyday" flatware:


Oneida "Louisiana," that I've always wanted.

Long Amazing Life Of a Great American Entertainer

Lena Horne

June 30, 1917 - May 9, 2010

Happy Mother's Day to All Mothers!

And to everyone who has ever had a mother. And even to those who haven't.

What a weekend! My son Jed, and my new yard man Joe, (not to mention my old self), worked like machines yesterday getting my basement mostly cleaned out. Joe cleaned up the back yard area under the trees, and I got a bee in my bonnet this morning and cleaned out my kitchen cabinets (mostly). So that was one of my Mother's Day presents. I would show a picture of my other MD gift, but I don't want to make y'all jealous of my new GE Microwave Oven! It's a beauty, all black and chrome or stainless steel, and it's 2/3 faster than the old one.

Friday Jed had a contractor, Jimmie, to come and inspect the whole house and to give us an estimate on some remodeling jobs. And then another contractor, Andrew, to do the same thing. Then Jed and I went to Lowe's and other places to look at new storm doors and front doors and other stuff. I picked out a front door that I swoon to think of how gorgeous it is, and we emailed Jimmie and told him when he starts anything, that's the one we want him to buy. We also chose a new storm door for the deck much like the old one, except I hope it won't be as bad to break my fingernails, scrape my shins and mash my fingers.

Yesterday afternoon, Jed and I had a sandwich & soup-sampling lunch at home, after which he left, and after which I slept off-and-on until 7:30 this morning. I was whupped from all that working and swooning.

Sittin' by the side of the cat. . .

Yesterday I ordered a CD of the soundtrack from "Michael," one of my favorite movies. I don't pick unpopular ones on purpose, but sometimes it seems like I'm one of the few to make any kind of fuss over movies that I really like. I think "Michael" is one of the most delightful comedies made in the 20th century. That's the kind of comedy I like, not slapstick or Charlie Chaplinesque "humor," or sex jokes. And a bit of romance and pathos thrown in doesn't hurt.

Anyway, some of the best songs are Bonnie Raitt's "Feels Like Home," "The Bright Side of the Road" by V. Morrison, and "I Don't Care If You Love Me Anymore."

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(The title of this post: Mo is looking out the window, and I'm looking at the computer.)

What the World Needs Now

Today is National Day of Prayer.

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"In circumstances as dark as these, it becomes us, as Men and Christians, to reflect that whilst every prudent measure should be taken to ward off the impending judgments, . . . at the same time all confidence must be . . . reposed only on that God [who] rules in the armies of Heaven, and without His whole blessing, the best human counsels are but foolishness. . . ."

From John Hancock: "A Day of Fasting, Humiliation and Prayer. . . Proclamation on April 15, 1775"
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What we stand to lose, without God's grace:

Musing on Current Events

I think it's interesting to read over Mark Chapter 13, and Chapters 24-25 of the book of Matthew. All the things Jesus talked about, in these books and in Revelation, seem to be happening at the same time lately--wars and rumors of wars, currency failures, famines, plagues (including diseases that originated in animals--AIDS! bird flu!), volcanoes, earthquakes, tsunamis/floods, and all kinds of terrorism, crime and immorality. He said that when we see all these things happening, this is the generation that will still be around when He comes back. That's the way I understand it.

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Today a nice man, representative of Dixie Home Crafters, looked at the house, primarily at the gutters. He said we don't need new gutters but that gutter guards or toppers would be a good idea, with all the trees on the lot. I asked him if they did windows, and they do, and we talked about thermal barrier insulation for the attic. I learned a lot by asking specific questions and listening to this guy. I made a tentative appointment for one of their reps (the one today won't be available Saturday) to come by Saturday morning and give his presentation to Jed.
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The attic insulation especially sounds like a wise investment, since this house is at least 30 years old, and my utility bills are pretty hefty. This guy, Ted, said that if a customer spends so much for new windows, he gets a $1500 tax credit, the same for thermal barrier insulation for the attic. It was a very interesting conversation, and he showed Better Business Bureau, Good Housekeeping Seal of Approval, and EPA certification for their company and products.

Another Demise

This morning the microwave died. I had to heat water on the stove-top for my coffee. Pooooor me! Don't y'all feel sorry for me? All the trouble in the world, and then this has to happen!

I've got my eye on some fancy new ELECTRIC ranges at Alabama Power Co. (low payments added to monthly power bill), but haven't decided which one I want. I think Jed will be here one day this week, so maybe we'll look at stoves, and microwaves. We think we'll have a visit from a home remodeler this week, to estimate the start of what-all needs to be done around the house--new doors, sump pumps, miles of paint and insulation, and maybe, someday, a kitchen remodel job. So maybe I'll make do with the gas oven and cooktop a little longer, and be content with a new microwave for the time being.

I don't know. Just as my feminine shopping instincts wake up, my common sense starts stomping its foot. I call it Portia. "There's always Portia, whining in the wings--" from a poem by me, after Shakespeare's Merchant of Venice.

Makes me want to go back and read the Merchant again.

"The quality of mercy is not strained;
It droppeth as the gentle rain from Heaven..."
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Actually, as to remodeling the kitchen, I really like my kitchen as it is except for the yellow gas appliances and yellow formica. Before moving here, I always said I'd never put yellow in a kitchen. But it is a cheerful room, and the yellow sort of acts like a neutral color. With all the black and white, it's hardly noticeable. Or maybe I've just got used to it.

A Stage and Screen Dynasty, Shrinking

Lynn Redgrave has died of breast cancer. She was the daughter of Sir Michael Redgrave (1908-1985), and younger sister of Vanessa and Corin Redgrave.

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Corin was a successful British actor who died in April 2010. His daughter Jemma Redgrave is also an actress.

Vanessa Redgrave is now 73 years old. She is the mother of actresses Joely Richardson, and the late Natasha Richardson who died in December 2009. The only movie I saw Natasha in was Nell, with Liam Neeson and Jodie Foster. I thought she was very beautiful.

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Vanessa starred in the film Julia, opposite Jane Fonda, and won an Academy award for the role. Julia is one of my all-time favorite movies, not least because of Jane Fonda who portrayed Lillian Hellman, narrator of Julia's story.

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Vanessa, her niece Jemma Redgrave and daughter Joely Richardson are, as far as I know, all the surviving actors in this great thespian clan.

Cloudy Sunday

Gretchen is sitting on the deck, trying to decide whether she wants to be inside or outside. The sky and the TV say it's going to rain--flood warnings everywhere.

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When I started this blog three years ago, I only wanted a blog because everyone else had one. That's the same reason I signed up for Facebook. Ever since 2007, I've hunted for comments on my blog, which I seldom ever get except from the family--which I appreciate! Anyway, I've decided to go back to my original blogging purpose, which is a sort of diary, so I can look back and see what happened when, like when it snowed, and which flowers bloomed when--very few, very seldom. What books I started writing and abandoned, and which dogs I wanted and didn't get.

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I'm still regretting that I didn't keep Buck. He was such a sweet dog. If he and I would have slept for 24 hours after that first exhausting night, I'd probably still have him.

Or maybe I'd be going around in a wheelchair instead of hopping on an occasionally sore foot.
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Anyhow, I'm starting over, I think. From now on, when I'm sure I want something, or want to do something, I'm gonna get it or do it. So there. And I'm not ashamed of talking to myself on the computer.