Kindly excuse my neglect of “Random Natterings” through Christmas and well into January. I’ll blame it on my husband’s serious health issues. He’s a little better now.
But what to write? Since it’s January still, I feel obligated to go through some of the clutter on my desk. I throw away stuff I don’t need, or forgot why I needed it in the first place. I took a good look at the writing board next to my computer. Nope. Nothing to discard there.
My writing board – that’s what I call it – is a durable chunk of metal of unknown vintage where I prop current notes, or Things I Must Remember. I write using a chapter outline, and they tend to pile up, as a manuscript progresses from one chapter to another. I pitched the ones I didn’t need, then found myself down to the writing board itself.
Usually cluttered with papers, I hadn’t seen it in a while (see photo). It contains things I’ve cut out of newspapers or magazines, or retyped. These bits of humor, wisdom, or comments on the writing life have been there for years. It’s fun to reread them. I’ll share a few with you.
Here’s a poem at least 35 years old from the Wall Street Journal. My three oldest children were in the angsty teen years then, and this resonated:
Heaven’s Above
If children moved away at twelve,
We’d wring our hands and grieve.
Thus God provided teen-age years,
To make us glad they leave.
Steve Cornett
This little squib below appealed to me, for whatever reason now escapes me. I’m not entirely certain that the concluding paragraph is entirely true.
Relocating? Chad Is Bad
“The world’s worst place to live is Chad, followed by Afghanistan, Burkina Faso and Ethiopia, says International Living magazine, sort of a places-rated almanac of countries.
“The best places, the magazine found, are the United States, Canada, West Germany and Australia.”
This clever bit came from the Orlando Sentinel, and is at least twenty years old.
“What do you know about Holland? The British wit Alan Coren wrote this about it: ‘Apart from cheese and tulips, the main product of the country is advocaat, a drink made from lawyers.’”
The historian in me relishes this wisdom from Will and Ariel Durant. It’s found in the Introduction to The Age of Napoleon, Volume XI in their series, The Story of Civilization:
“All in all, in life and in history, we have found so many good men and women that we have quite lost faith in the wickedness of mankind.”
I’m a fan of crime fiction, which includes the wonderful Brother Cadfael mysteries by Ellis Peters. These mysteries are set in Shrewsbury, England, in the 12th century. A Welshman, Cadfael joined the Benedictine order after a colorful career as a mercenary fighting during the Crusades. He tinkers with herbs, heals the sick, and solves mysteries. His great good friend is Hugh Beringar, a Norman and the local sheriff. This wisdom for all of us comes from the novel, One Corpse Too Many. The monk is speaking to the sheriff:
“You did the work that fell to you and did it well. God disposes all. From the highest to the lowest extreme of a man’s scope, wherever justice and retribution can reach him, so can grace.”
I recently tacked up this funny sentence sent to me by Commander Ray Ramirez [USN Ret.], a fellow classmate and friend from the Class of 1965, A.C. Jones High School, Beeville, Texas:
“The next morning when we were all sober, the pilots decided it was probably not a good idea.”
A few years ago, I was a ranger at Fort Union Trading Post National Historic Site, located on the North Dakota/Montana border. I had been sent to Bismarck to pick up some buffalo robes with scenes painted on them more than a century ago. It was for an exhibit of ours. I ran into all kinds of issues returning, including car trouble, and a cop stopping me for speeding an unheard of 40 m.p.h. through a little town. By then, I had a backseat full of obviously rare and costly buffalo robes. I wasn’t in uniform. I guess he believed me when I said I was taking these to Fort Union. At least I look honest.
Anyway, I got back to the fort and whined and told my tale of woe to Loren Yellow Bird, an Arikara and all-around terrific ranger. He laughed and told me, “Carla, you are now The Woman Who Brings Buffalo Robes.” He gave me that First Nation name all my own. I put it on my writing board: “Sabaac tanaa haruhta,” which translates as Woman Buffalo Robes Brings. Is that cool or what?
Let me conclude with this statement – I suppose it’s from Anonymous, who has written many words of wisdom: “Don’t put off ‘til tomorrow what you can do today. That way, if you liked it, you can do it again tomorrow.”
Can’t conclude yet. It’s still January, which for several weeks here in Idaho has been grey and gloomy and snowy. This is on my computer itself, down at the bottom.
I Heard a Bird Sing
I heard a bird sing
In the dark of December.
A magical thing,
And sweet to remember.
‘We are nearer to Spring
Than we were in September,’
I heard a bird sing
In the dark of December.
Oliver Herford, 1863
Happy trails until the next time, from my writing board to you.