Happy Birthday, America

I have been told many times how superficial Americans' relationships are - shallow because they are simply social convention.  In my view this is not true.  The Americans mostly live in peace, but the moment an accident or even a disaster occurs, they act.  It needn't be a terrorist attack.  I once drove off the road into the ditch in a blizzard and got stuck in a snowdrift.  It was about twenty degrees below zero and there was such a gale blowing that anyone out in the open would have started to freeze.  Nevertheless, within moments a truck pulled up and the driver ran over to make sure no one in the car was injured and to ask if we needed help.  He gave one of my companions a lift to go and arrange for the car to be towed out.  The next driver to pass by, a few seconds later, tried to pull us out with a chain.  I don't think drivers in our country would behave with such concern and self-sacrifice.

That's from an essay by Ivan Klima from the Czech Republic, written for a collection that Granta magazine put together in 2002 called 'What We Think of America.'

In my life, I've lived for extended periods of time in England and Poland.  Not only has that allowed me to experience the daily life and culture of those countries, but it's allowed me to see America from a different perspective.

Somewhere G. K. Chesterton tells a story of an English boy who lived in the chalk hills where his ancestors had carved out large figures of giants and horses in the ground.  One day the boy decided to leave his home in order to see the world.  After walking a long distance from his home he turned to look back and for the first time in his life he saw the chalk figures in their entirety.  He had never really seen them before because he lived right on top of them.

Like with an impressionist painting, sometimes you have to get farther away from an object in order to really see it.  That's how it is for me with America.

So, how does America look from a distance?

Arrogant and friendly, materialistic and generous, meddlesome and helpful, ignorant and a light for the world, an enabler of tyrants and the freest place on earth.  I could add, a nation that aborts nearly 1 million persons a year and whose largest grossing industry is pornography but also has the highest rate of church attendance among industrialized countries.

People and nations are and always have been self-contradictory, but for a nation as large and powerful as America, the contradictions are magnified.

Back in 2000 I was working for a temp agency at the processing center for a bank in Fort Worth, TX.  I was one of the few men working there; most of the others were women around the age of 20.  A few days before the 4th of July, the women were decorating the office with red, white and blue bunting and ribbons. One of the young ladies, a blonde-haired and blue-eyed honor student at a nearby junior college, asked in complete innocence, "So, like, is the 4th of July about America or something?" 

The other young women all glanced at each other before politely explaining that yes, it was.  I quickly got up and went to the men's room to splash cold water on my face.  (An honor student? I asked myself.)

I'm fairly certain that that young American woman, who had lived nearly 20 years of her life without a clue about what the 4th of July is, probably would have stopped to try to help someone in obvious distress. 

The question we could ask is, "What difference does it make?  If someone is a kind and good person, does it really matter if they don't understand the significance of a national holiday?"

My answer is, yes.  Yes, it matters very much.  Aside from mere gratitude and appreciation for the free nation Americans live in, there's the matter of responsibility.  Freedom isn't free and it must be protected with great vigilance.  That young woman has the right to vote.  How could she possibly vote intelligently?  It's clear from many of the election results in recent decades that astounding ignorance and confusion are prevalent among the nation's voters.

So, Happy 237th Birthday America.  You're in a bad way right now, but you've been in a bad way before.  Valley Forge, the Civil War, the Great Depression, Jim Crow - those were all dangerous times and by the grace of God you survived each of those.

May God continue to bless and protect this land.

 

Bibliophiles of the World, Unite!

Whenever I go into a library I feel bad that I cannot buy some of the books I find there - because I already own a copy.

That's a quote from one of the lectures that Jorge Luis Borges gave at Harvard University during the 1967/1968 academic year.  (I have the 4-CD set of those lectures, This Craft of Verse.)  It's a sentiment I share.  It's avarice, I know, which is one of the seven deadly sins.  However, my general financial situation over the last decade or so has kept my greed for books in check and I suppose that's a good thing.

Borges was an Argentinian poet, short story writer and internationally renowned speaker.  He inherited a genetic trait for blindness from his father and by his 30s was nearly completely blind.  Oddly, he never learned to read Braille, but had an incredible capacity for memory.  In his late 60s, he gave his Harvard lectures without notes.  In those lectures he quotes lines of poetry from memory in Spanish, English, German, Greek and Norse.

Here is Borges' poem Everness, translated from the Spanish by the great American poet Richard Wilbur:

Everness

One thing does not exist: Oblivion.
God saves the metal and he saves the dross,
And his prophetic memory guards from loss
The moons to come, and those of evenings gone.
Everything is: the shadows in the glass
Which, in between the day's two twilights, you
Have scattered by the thousands, or shall strew
Henceforward in the mirrors that you pass.
And everything is part of that diverse
Crystalline memory, the universe;
Whoever through its endless mazes wanders
Hears door on door click shut behind his stride,
And only from the sunset's farther side
Shall view at last the Archetypes and the Splendors.



Since we moved to Poland nearly two years ago, I have not had access to an English library.  Books in English are rather expensive and so I've only been able to buy a couple of books.  The plus to this is that I've been forced to re-read (for a third time in some cases) the books that I already possess.  These books are nearly all classic literature, poetry, history, religion, biographies and such and are worth re-reading. 

It's interesting that as I read many of these books a much older person than I was when I first read them, I get so much more out of them.  I have to admit that in a few cases it's as if I had never even read them the first time.  Apparently 15 - 20 years ago I plowed through some of these books and retained almost nothing from them.

As one who loves good books, I am gratified that my 7-year-old daughter Emilia loves to read.  She's even memorized a classic Polish children's poem by Julian Tuwim - not because she had to, but because she loves the poem so much and read it so many times that she ended up learning it by heart.  The poem's called Okulary (Glasses) and is about a man who loses his glasses, looks all over his house for them in a panic, only to see in a mirror that he's wearing them.

They have a pretty good children's library at their school and she often comes home with a small pile of new books to read.  She seems to have inherited some of her Daddy's desire for books!

John the Baptizer

One June 24th, the Catholic Church celebrates the Nativity of Saint John the Baptist.  Why the 24th of June?  It's 6 months before Christmas, the birth of Jesus.

And behold, Elizabeth, your relative, has also conceived a son in her old age, and this is the sixth month for her who was called barren; for nothing will be impossible for God.

That's from Luke 1:36-37, from the Annunciation of the angel Gabriel to Mary.

All the Old Testament prophets foretold or pointed toward Jesus the Christ, in one way or another.  John the Baptist was a forerunner of Christ and is considered the last in the line of Old Testament prophets; he's the bridge from the Old Testament to the New.

My favorite lines from John the Baptist are these: I am baptizing you with water, but one mightier than I is coming.  I am not worthy to loosen the thongs of his sandals. (Luke 3:16) and He (Jesus) must increase: I must decrease. (John 3:30)  Other favorite lines concern not what John said but what he did as an infant in his mother Elizabeth's womb: When Elizabeth heard Mary's greeting, the infant leaped in her womb. (Luke 1:41) and How does this happen to me, that the mother of my Lord should come to me?  For at the moment the sound of your greeting reached my ears, the infant in my womb leaped for joy. (Luke 1:43-44)

Rag & Bone Buffet

Rain, rain, rain

We've had a lot of rain here in central and eastern Europe lately.  I suppose you've all seen the floods in Germany, Austria, Hungary and the Czech Republic on the news.  We've been spared the serious flooding in Poland, though people living near the swelling rivers were getting awfully nervous.

I don't know what the soil is like in Germany, Austria, etc., but here in Poland it's very sandy.  I'm sure that helps as far as drainage.  The funny thing is, after all the rain we've had, give us 2 weeks of dry and sunny weather and the farmers will be hoping for rain again.  That's thanks to the sandy soil here.

I think the wet weather has caused the poppies and cornflowers to really go crazy this summer.  There are margins of fields and roads close to where I live that are nearly solid red and blue.

 

I haven't been able to take a photo or find one on the web that really does justice to the sight of great fields with bright red poppies and blue cornflowers growing amidst the wheat or oats.  With the additional white daisies that are also common you get a nice red, white and blue effect.

Madonna of the Wheat

Madonna of the wheat, bless the grain which becomes our daily bread,
so there will be enough bread for all, and none will go hungry.

(Mieczyslaw Gogacz, Litania kwiatow do Matki Bozej)

 

 

Thugs, Unlimited

 

I've been following from afar the scandals concerning the IRS in the United States.  The governments of modern democracies (so-called) have more power to oversee and regulate the private lives of individuals than any absolute monarchy ever dreamed of. 

 

"Politics is violence."  I saw that quote recently but I can't recall nor locate the name of the philosopher who said it.  The context of the quote is that governments, no matter what form they are, whether it be democracy, monarchy or dictatorship, have potentially violent means at their disposal to enforce the laws.  If you refuse to pay your taxes, armed federal agents will visit you.  Your property may be taken from you and you may find yourself in jail. 

 

But surely we must all pay our taxes.  If we don't like the tax rates we have the means of the ballot box to elect officials who will modify the tax rates.

 

That is true, but creeping government power goes way beyond collecting taxes.

 

In many countries ("gentle" Sweden, for example) the only educational option for children is the state-run education system.  There are no private schools and home-schooling is not allowed.  If as a parent you are unhappy with the content of the sexual education (and an informed Christian would have much to be unhappy with!), too bad.  If you refuse to surrender your children to the state school system, you will be compelled to.  Your children will be taken from you if the state deems it necessary.  It turns out your children are not yours after all, but belong to the state.

 

Regarding the situation with the IRS, I've read that one pro-life organization in Iowa applying for tax-exempt status was told they must agree not to protest outside Planned Parenthood facilities.  Say what?  That violates the First Amendment in three different ways - it abridges the freedom of speech and of peaceable assembly.  Plus, it abridges the free exercise of religion in the sense that Christians and Jews are obligated to defend the defenseless (unborn babies).

 

 

Civilization

 

Civilization is a rather fragile thing, it seems.  Thuggery and nastiness are always threatening to break through.  Call it 'original sin.'  I wrote this some years ago:

 

Viking Raid

 

The sun had risen with the wind to spangle

Waves that rushed and foamed the clacking shingle

Where longboats shoved their snouts and spilled their hoard,

Where waves of slouching figures hurried forward . . .

The village chimneys smoked.  The roosters crowed.

The milkers stamped their feet against the cold.

But quick the hands that swung the raspy broom,

The hands upon the axe, the doll, the loom

Were stilled.  Their screams were stifled in their throats.

So with the bawling cows and bleating goats.

The sun rose high above the inky haze

That blacked out barns and cottages ablaze.

 

 

But the last word goes to the Word, the Alpha and the Omega.  The song reference is to J.S. Bach's gorgeous Jesu, Joy of Man's Desiring.

 

Morning Song

 

The rising sun casts gold across the earth.

Hurrah!  A shout of joy, a splendid birth!

An early walker smells new chimney smoke

And hears the sparrows sing in birch and oak.

His heart, a flower bright as day's new firing,

Sings Jesus, Jesus, Joy of Man's Desiring.

 

 



Sweet Summertime

According to the calendar, summer in the northern hemisphere begins this year on June 21st, which is the summer solstice. 

But in real life, summer has already begun for most people.  So, what is summer?

Well, for me summer means hot weather.  Summer in Texas begins in May when temperatures consistently hit the 90s.  Summers in Texas can be insufferable during July and August when it's not unusual to hit 100 degrees for days on end, with the night-time temperatures only falling into the 80s.  When we lived in Texas, we survived by going to the swimming pool or escaping indoors to one of the many (air conditioned) bounce house locations in our area. 

July and August in Texas are basically dead periods as far as gardening is concerned.  It's rather like an inverted winter.  Instead of frost, the blazing temperatures and lack of rain means gardens dry up and turn brown.

I much prefer summer in northern climates like Wisconsin and Poland.  Summer highs in Poland rarely exceed 90 degrees and the nights can even be chilly.  Because summer is relatively short at northern latitudes, people feel compelled to make the most of it.  I've heard and read that in Scandinavian countries like Sweden and Finland, practically the entire nation takes a month off at the height of their summer.  Government offices are virtually shut down and very little gets done at most businesses.  Considering how long and dark their winters are, I can't blame them.

Here in Poland, popular summer activities are about the same as in other places.  We grill or roast sausages on sticks over a fire.  Kids swim in ponds or lakes.  People take vacations in the mountains or at the seaside.  People tend their vegetable and flower gardens and cut the grass.

When I was kid going to school, the start of summer vacation was indescribably wonderful.  All of the free time laid out before me was like the luxury of a king.  Polish schoolchildren finish their school at the end of June - and they can hardly wait!

A lot of music has been inspired by the summer season.  My two favorites, which I think just plain sound like summer are: 1) The 'summer' section of Antonio Vivaldi's The Four Seasons, with the lazy summer-like calm interrupted by an orchestral thunder shower.  2) Summertime written by George Gershwin with lyrics by DuBose Heyward.  I especially like the music-only versions performed by Sidney Bechet on clarinet.

June, from the

Très Riches Heures du Duc de Berry

June
by Randall Peaslee

There on my left the moon hangs white as wax.
On my right, the western horizon glows.
Some late birds twitter unseen in their roosts.
Incessant crickets pulse and pulse and pulse.
Overhead the stars slowly salt the night
As on we're hurled through frigid space.  Yet still
I stand in this orchard of swelling fruit.
A brief half-night and then the cocks will crow.
Now's the soft unfolding of the season.
The air is cool.  As it is in summer's
Beginning, so shall it be at the end.

Some reflections on D-Day

June 6th marks the 69th anniversary of the D-Day landings in Normandy France in 1944.  This was the greatest military undertaking in the recorded history of mankind.  A combined force of American, British, French, Canadian, Australian, New Zealand, Polish, Norwegian, Dutch and Belgian land, air and sea power invaded German Nazi-occupied France in the early hours of that day.

Rather than go into numeric details, I want to reflect on the human drama of that day and the many days that followed.

I first saw the film Saving Private Ryan in a movie theatre.  I'd seen many war films prior to that, but I wasn't prepared for the intense and horrific first twenty minutes of that film.  Men who have been in battle said that was the most realistic battle footage ever portrayed by actors in a movie.  The hairs stood up on my back and my heart pounded in my chest as I watched.  I almost began to cry right there in the theatre.

My emotional reaction was not merely to the sheer terror of the action portrayed, but I vicariously participated in the action with those soldiers.  Yes, those were just actors on the screen - but it all happened for real on that morning in 1944.

The soldiers, sailors and airmen who participated in the Normandy invasion are often referred to as 'boys.'  I understand that's a term of endearment and that many of them were quite young.  Whatever state of boyhood remained in those soldiers, they were all men that morning as they set their faces forward and entered the jaws of hell.

In all the D-Day commemorations that take place year after year, much is said about the supreme sacrifice those men made for America and for liberty.  When those men enlisted (or were drafted) and for the survivors later, perhaps they thought about America, liberty, the battle against fascism and the future of civilization.  But as I've heard so many war vets explain, in the midst of battle soldiers are mainly thinking about their fellow soldiers and the mission at hand; there's a deep love for their brothers-in-arms and a job to do.

Those soldiers landing on the French beaches knew beforehand that a great many of them wouldn't survive.  It's true young men assume they'll live forever and no doubt each of those men had hope they'd come through the battle ahead alive.  But they had to know the odds were long.  And yet, those brave, brave men swallowed their fear and stepped forward into a rain of bullets and shells, picking up their wounded comrades on the way, soon covered with blood and grime. 

One other thing - after the D-Day commemorations are finished we move on with our lives.  In 1944, June 7th didn't bring a return to normality for those men.  There were many days of tough fighting ahead.  Many who survived D-Day would die in the months and battles that followed.  There would be the Battle of the Bulge in the fiercely cold winter days of December 1944 to January 1945 - a last ditch effort by the Germans to turn the tide of the war back in their favor.  The war in Europe wouldn't finally end until early May 1945.  On the other side of the world the brutal fighting against the Japanese would continue until August of 1945.

When I think of the men who fought in World War II, I'm filled with gratitude and admiration. 

Dear God in heaven, whether they were aware of it or not, whether they were Christian or not, these men followed the example of your Son Jesus Christ by laying down their lives for their friends; thank you for their sacrifice and may their souls rest eternally with You.