Christmas in October

Santa brought me a new TV!

Brick Road Poetry Book Contest

This morning I took time out from coffee and peanut butter crème cookies, and from reading this amazing book by Dale Short. I sent my manuscript, "Grandmother Goose: Grown-Up Nursery Rhymes," to a competition sponsored by Brick Road Poetry Press of Columbus, Georgia. Then I read the ms. again, and it made me laugh and cry, etc.

I don't know the words to thank my son J.D. Cage enough for his technical help in getting the book ready to submit.

Shakespeare's Dad

Thomas Seymour, 2nd Earl Arundel

When Henry VIII died in January 1547, he left a widow who still had her head. Her name was Katherine Parr.

Henry's favorite wife had been Jane Seymour, who had died after bearing the future King Edward VI.

Two of Jane's brothers, Edward and Thomas, survived Henry. Near his deathbed, Henry appointed Edward Seymour, Duke of Somerset/Earl of Hertford , as Protector of the young prince.

Soon after Henry VIII died, his widow Katherine married Thomas Seymour, Duke of Something/second Earl Arundel, and Henry's young daughter Elizabeth was sent to live with them, at which time Elizabeth, born in September 1533, was 13 years old.

After a couple of years, Elizabeth was sent to live in the country (Hatfield), ostensibly sick, but according to rumor pregnant by Thomas.

The rumors circulating around London prompted the Protector to send letters repeatedly to Elizabeth questioning the matter. Finally, Elizabeth wrote back entreating him to let her come to London to show folks that she wasn't pregnant.

While Elizabeth was in the country, Thomas had tried to abduct her, was arrested and eventually beheaded.

Down to here is documented history. The rest is conjecture by Charlton Ogburn and other historians, and me.

The sum of the conjecture/assumptions is that at age 16 or 17, Elizabeth wasn't pregnant any more because the child had been born. She took him to a kinsman, the old Earl of Oxford at his castle Hedingham in Essex, who raised him as his own son. They named him Edward after his uncle Seymour and after Elizabeth's brother Edward, the young Prince.

At that time the Earl of Oxford's wife had in fact died. Sometime around 1548 to 1550, he in fact married a young widow, Margery Golding, sister of the scholar/author/translator Arthur Golding. Margery was reputed to be the mother of the child, who over the years was in fact educated by Arthur Golding and other tutors, and at Oxford and Cambridge. When he was 12 years old, his "father," the 16th Earl of Oxford, died, and young Edward was sent to London, where Elizabeth made him the ward of her secretary, William Cecil, whom she appointed Baron Burleigh. Through the sixteenth earl, Edward was hereditarily 17th Earl of Oxford and several other titles, as well as Lord Great Chamberlain of England. Over the remaining lifetime of Lord Burleigh, almost all of Edward's numerous estates, forests, castles and property were in fact transferred to, or sold by, Lord Burleigh. After Burleigh died, Elizabeth granted Edward 1,000 pounds a year to live on.

Many years later, Edward's second wife, Elizabeth Trentham, bought back his "ancestral" castle Hedingham in Essex before Edward died (fact).

What all of this has to do with "Shakespeare" has been researched and written about for more than a hundred years by the Ogburns, members of the American Bar Association, and many other scholars.

"You don't have to be a rabbi to be a Jew."

"The heads of strong old age are beautiful,
beyond all grace of youth..." - Robinson Jeffers

On December 9th, Koik will be 98 years old.

Orionid shower

I counted seven meteors, but it was just after midnight Monday. I guess that was Tuesday.

***

K-12

Children, study small things, the ordinary common things
but elusive, as stars peripherally visible
to eyes focused upon Orion's silver belt

regular but startling, as the receding tide at Portsmouth
and muddy water paddled by orange legs of the swans

plain but exquisite, as a rock wall looped with oolitic limestone
tan and gray, somewhere near Tuscaloosa

small and familiar, as brown spots on old hands or
white cataractic rings around old irises

breath-taking—green-gold of new leaves—
pink toes and fingers of a new-born—

Children, small things are where to look for God.

 

By JRC, 10/22/14 (A poem in progress)

 

Two Steps Forward

Yesterday I did a lot of useful stuff, so of course today I feel totally worthless. Except I woke up thinking of how to change that first novel I wrote and maybe make it worth reading. Now, if I can just find it.

Anyway, the bills are paid, the trash is collected, and I have plenty of dishwasher detergent.

A post on Facebook reminded me of Mentone, Alabama. Maybe Jed and I can go up there, either this weekend or sometime soon. The town has probably changed a lot since Miriam and I were there. It was the drive and the countryside, more than the town, that fascinated me. I remember remarking more than once, "Look at those rocks!"

*

Also, the ASPS fall awards luncheon at Montevallo is Saturday, Oct. 25. If I thought my wizard poem had won anything, I would think about going down there. Jodi or someone usually emails me if one of my poems has won a prize, and I haven't heard anything this time. Besides, going to Mentone is a pleasanter prospect than stumbling over the cobbles at the U. of M.

Lancelot, by Walker Percy

Some of the best fiction-writing I have ever read. And one of the sleaziest, most harrowing tales. I need to read something else. Not "Southern." Civilized. Maybe slow, English, and sort of boring.

*

Lunch, plus some cheesy mashed potatoes.

Criminal Minds

The new episode tonight was very good. But Spencer, J.J., and the Ghost Whisperer woman had sort of Halloween hairdos. Even Joe Mantegna's head looked slightly rumpled. Thomas Gibson and Shemar Moore were their usual neat selves.

The Celebrated Jumping Dog of Jefferson County

She wore herself out jumping for treats (a chopped-up hot dog). After a little more lunch, and a walk outside, she lay down for a nap.

 

*

 

Yesterday I got a bright idea of how to fix the TV. I unplugged it from the wall, waited a minute, then plugged it in. And the sound came on. They don't call me Miz Fixit for nothing.

"They stayed away in droves." - Dorothy Parker

Ramey and I went to the play. I wish I could say it was excellent. For amateurs, I guess it was good. They shouted to an almost empty house. But then, it was a matinee. The furniture onstage was beautiful. Victorian, complete with price tag and bar code on one piece. I've never seen a play I didn't like, and this one was no exception. But maybe for different reasons.

One of my favorite movies is "Beaches," Bette Midler and Barbara Hershey. I watched it on TV sometime over the weekend. That girl who played 12-year-old C.C. Bloom was so good! The ending makes it a tear-jerker.

I also recently watched Tom Stoppard's play, "Rosencrantz and Guildenstern Are Dead," on TV.

*

Speaking of TV, the sound has gone out on my set. I can get pictures, but no sound. Can't watch Jeopardy. Well, I can watch it but can't hear it. It went out suddenly yesterday, and I thought for a minute I had lost my hearing, but the tinnitus corrected that impression.

*

4:28 p.m. - I hear the storm a-coming.

Book Club, etc.

We had a mighty good meeting at Ramey's on Thursday, discussing the book The Bartender's Tale by Ivan Doig. That is, we discussed it after the scrumptious meal in Ramey's beautiful dining room. During the luncheon, I told secrets, such as that I wrote love poems in high school, when I was in love at three or four different boys at once. Sometimes I wish someone would just tell me to shut up.

I think Ramey and I are going to see the stage play, And Then There Were None, at the Arts Center. Tomorrow afternoon.

Dreaming about my departed loved ones keeps me from grieving about them too much. One time I dreamed that I had dyed my hair brown, and I asked Mama what she thought of it. Her reply was typical: "It looks better than it did."

Visit By a Friend

Yesterday evening, Joan D. stopped by the house to pick up a book for the book club tomorrow. She was on her way to a church meeting. I was so happy to see her, and in about ten minutes we talked about at least that many topics. We can talk fast when we need to. She liked the dollhouse and the quilt wall-hanging.

This week I started a fall cleaning project, and of course it bogged down before it's well started. But I did sort of run out of steam Monday and didn't feel like going to the poetry reading. And I hope to have the house in better shape by Christmas. Everything takes so much longer to do than planned--I've said that before, but it continues to amaze me.

One night I dreamed, seemed like all night, of hunting my wallet. During the search I found a kitten that I wanted, and then I lost the kitten. I finally found the kitten, but the purse was still missing.

*

The new "Castle" season promises to be rather weak. I remember getting good and fed-up with JAG, because the romance never got anywhere. But by this fifth or sixth or seventh series, "Castle" seems to have degenerated into two old quasi-married people trying to have adventures. Maybe they'll get back to the dead bodies. Or maybe Castle will figure out space- or time-travel.

I think that's probably the best thing about "Firefly." It's just a single gem of a series, standing alone. And you can imagine the future to suit yourself, like Malcolm and Zoe getting together instead of him fooling around with that companion.

*

Saw a cloud that looked like a two-hump camel, but it broke up before I could get a photo.

Dromedary

Oh, the one-hump camel is Arabian,
and the two-hump camel is a Bactrian;
and I would bet my tooth enamel,
there isn't any three-hump camel.

By JRC, 2002