German Cousins?

I'd like to say there girls are my German cousins, but alas I have no proof of such. You can watch their incredible dance here. I rarely check out such things online, but this caught my attention. Had two women in the shop yesterday from Stuttgart, Germany, near where my father's people are from.

Sunday Night Fiddler and Two Teen Girls

What fun Sunday afternoon to meet Kayla and her best friend Mazie at the Parsley Mediterranean Grill downtown, and then after some wonderful vegetarian fare, wandering over to the Civic Theater to enjoy "Fiddler on the Roof." I recall years ago, as Kayla would sit on my lap playing peas porridge hot, wondering how she would turn out as a teenager. I don't suppose I even imagined that one day as a junior in high school she and her good friend would be having so much fun interacting with us over a meal and laughing (and almost crying) together at a musical. It was very funny as well as deeply moving and sad at the same time. And to think that Antisemitism is still very alive and well today. We need reminders like that.

The Other Worst Billiard Champ

Here is John, in the fine tradition of Harold Worst. We wish we knew more about him and whether he had a pool table in his front room, the first thing you see when you enter our door. Below is a view from above.

Famous Worst Kin

My writing is mostly historical and biblical, not typically personal, but today I included this personal anecdote in a chapter I was working on.

When I married John, the game of Dutch bingo came with him. He plays well, though surely not with me. The game pops up everywhere, most recently when we were purchasing new kayaks. The store manager overheard the name Worst. He moved closer: Any relation to . . . . And so it went. I examined the cigarette lighters on the counter while they named an assortment of Worsts going back through the generations. . . . Harold Worst, his second cousin once removed, was the 1965 world champion 3-cushion billiard player—beat the pants off Boston Shorty (demonstrated by a video easily accessible online). 

Harold John Worst died in 1967 at age 37. Husband John would like me to say that he remembers him fondly, though I might add, very dimly. Truth be told, John's very religious Christian Reformed side of the family regarded pool a 4-letter word, and billiards is essentially the same as pool. John, by the way is playing pool by himself as I write.

Harold looks like a cool guy in this picture, just wish he had a cool "Boston Shorty" nickname!

Catholic News

The top story today is that WE have a new pope. But to me, another story online is actually more interesting. Roger Ebert, like most Catholics in the last few days, is reflecting on his faith. Along those lines, he says this:

 I consider myself Catholic, lock, stock and barrel, 

with this technical loophole: 

I cannot believe in God. 

Goodbye to Biloxi

Tomorrow morning we'll be on our way home after a very productive week of writing as well as a lot of good hiking and biking. We've been staying here at the Quality Inn, which we got at a reduced $60/day rate due to our 5-day stay. I have a lot more writing to do on our long trip tomorrow, and we'll be stopping in Kentucky to pick up some hand-made merchandise to sell at the Gardens. As soon as we arrive home on Saturday (unless we decide to drive straight through for 16 hours), John will visit Mom and pick up some groceries. On Sunday morning we'll be at church (John serving communion), joined by Carlton and Kayla if all goes as planned. Our minister of many years ago from Fifth Reformed Church is now an interim pastor at our downtown church, and Carlton has been eager to come with us and reconnect with him. Here are a couple snaps of where we are staying, one looking out our door to the Gulf. We're on the second floor, and we learned today that the ocean surge from Katrina came up a foot into our room. It's almost impossible to comprehend that as we look out. 

Railing at Jerks!

Railing at jerks who leave behind their trash is a waste of energy. Even if I caught them redhanded they would no doubt ignore me. A better response that John and I seek to put in practice is picking up trash on a regular basis---especially when we are on vacation. Today after spending more than an hour at the computer we went for a drive and came across a wonderful little park right here in Biloxi. We hiked out on a ribbon of a peninsula into a large backwater lake only to find trash along the trail. So we spent 20 minutes each picking up several recycled grocery bags full. Above I am stooped over grabbing a few last things left in the parking area. I would feel fantastic if I could encourage even one person to take up this past-time and to pass it on to someone else. We actually enjoy it, knowing we are doing some little thing to give back to the environment. We always keep garden gloves and recycled bags in the car, and that's all it takes, plus a bottle of hand sanitizer. Here is John on a walkway out into the backwater, and below is the entry sign.

Hiking, Biking, Writing on the Gulf

We made a quick trip down to Mississippi, leaving on Saturday after we closed at the Gardens, arriving Sunday afternoon at our motel right across the road from the beautiful blue Gulf of Mexico. I wrote as John drove on the way down, and today I managed to chalk up 1538 more words. The weather is is sunny and cool, just as we like it. We also hiked and biked, picnicked and snapped some pictures along the way.

 

Book Dedication

Right now I'm working on another book, and I always think about the matter of dedication. I love this one---might just steal it!

LOGAN: A FAMILY HISTORY

by JOHN NEAL (1822)

"I do not dedicate my book to any body; for I know nobody worth dedicating it to. I have no friends, no children, no wife, no home; -- no relations, no well-wishers; -- nobody to love, and nobody to care for. To whom shall I; to whom can I dedicate it? To my Maker! It is unworthy of him. To my countrymen? They are unworthy of me. For the men of past ages I have very little veneration; for those of the present, not at all. To whom shall I entrust it? Who will care for me, by to-morrow? Who will do battle for my book, when I am gone? Will posterity? Yea, posterity will do me justice. To posterity then – to the winds! I bequeath it! I devote it -- as a Roman would his enemy, to the fierce and unsparing charities of another world – to a generation of spirits – to the shadowy and crowned potentates of hereafter. I—I—I have done – the blood of the red man is growing cold – farewell – farewell forever!"

Read the full text here.

A Fascinating Renaissance Nativity

Here is a wonderful work by Piero della Francesca (1415-1492). I had not known of him until I read this week's New Yorker. Normally we see shepherds gathered around, but here we have what I believe are 5 young ladies, 2 of them strumming to the beat of kumbaya. This is the first sentence of the article by Peter Schjeldahl, entitled "Heaven on Earth":

The supreme early-Renaissance master Piero della Francesca 

is like no other artist in my experience: 

not better, exactly, but loftily apart, defying comparison.