Gratias Ago, Domine
"Oh, Lovey... those onions are chopped just about right!" My grandmother approved, as I poured a cutting-board full of them into the soup pot.
"Can I stay another week?" I asked playfully.
"Well, okay. One more week." Charity said.
Nana, Charity, and I were relaxing together while making turkey soup, since Mom and Dad had a Christmas party to attend, and Marjorie was wrapping presents. It's been a hectic day. This morning, Mom surveyed her six children as we stood gathered around the kitchen counter, and said, "Kids, Christmas is next Saturday, and because of the Mexico trip we're only now starting the shopping. This is insane."
Yes, it really is.
Today we had our traditional "Assault on the Mall." The whole family, armed with six cell phones, "plastic" (credit cards), and the envelopes containing Christmas lists, hit Lakeforest at 10:00 AM. It was beautiful! The cell phones kept us coordinated, and the Starbucks--which a benefactor of mankind had thought to place in the exact center of the mall--was a most convenient meeting place. Our surgical strike forces split and struck... and then all we had to do was keep so-and-so from peeking into somebody else's bag.
"Charity Anne, don't you dare look in my bag!"
"Did you get me a turtle?"
"I'm not going to tell you, silly!"
Charity loves turtles. She loves them as keychains or collectible spoons, as figurines or plush toys, on sweatshirts and mugs... you name it. From ten to two we shopped, with a brief interlude at the food court, where Charity and Mike played chess with the locals while the rest of us looked on.
Mike grinned at me over lunch. "Chris, I finished The First Circle. I was up until 5 AM this morning, but I finished it."
"Lunatic! How was it?"
"It. Was. Good."
I smiled at his emphasis. "My turn now, right?"
The shopping went on until 2 PM. We were ready to drop, but a satisfying pile of presents had been assimilated. I can't describe them, my dear; I'm itching to do it, but if this post fell into the wrong hands....well. Christmas secrets, you know. Charity and Marjorie took me out to see The Incredibles next, and then we wound up at Coldstone, which Marjorie has been wanting to visit for the past five months. I was pleased and amused to see my sisters' reaction to Coldstone ice cream (highly favorable), but we had the most bizarre conversation coming out of the theater and on our way there. It began when the end credits started to roll.
"How did you like it, Christy?" Marjorie asked. Unthinkingly, I replied, "Good, but I find the Nihilism somewhat disturbing." They laughed at me, and I laughed at myself. I'm not at PHC any more, Toto! But then Marjorie asked, "Why?"
I spent the entire trip to the parking garage, and then across town to Coldstone, giving Marjorie a brief (but I hope thorough) lesson in nihilism, beginning with the Latin nihil and ranging over Nietzsche, World Wars I & II, the relations between Jews and the rest of Europe from 70 AD on, 1930's Germany, the Weimar Republic, Medieval treatment of Jews as a race, the concept of "beyond good and evil," the Superman, etc. etc. etc. Charity supplemented, and Marjorie stayed interested.
It was astonishing that an animated Pixar film could spark such a discussion, but really, the undertones of that movie are only one step away from Nihilism. Its ideology is one of, "If 'everybody is special,' then no one is. These superheroes are special (read: ubermensch), and they should be allowed to exist as 'special people.'" What disturbed me was the premise that some folks are just plain better than others. It seemed a very short step from there to Raskolnikov and the Holocaust and Aryans and all the rest. I may be wrong, of course... but that was my first impression.
Marjorie's attention and intelligent questioning was a delight. She's grown up so much. Yesterday, she was preparing to write an essay on the possibility of Democrats trying to secede from the Union on account of their most recent election loss. My almost-fourteen-year-old sister is reading the newpaper and commenting on politics!
We got back, and Nana came over. The talk began with Ruled Britannia, but we were soon on the Elizabethan Era. I pulled out Worldbook Encyclopedia and began to read excerpts out loud while we sat in the Family Room admiring the tree, the fire, and the Christmas lights.
"You mean that Bloody Mary and Mary, Queen of Scots, weren't the same person?" Nana asked, sounding surprised.
"No ma'am. Mary Stuart (Mary, Queen of Scots) was Elizabeth's cousin, and her son James Stuart became James VI and succeeded to the throne of England after Elizabeth died in 1603. Bloody Mary was Elizabeth's half-sister, daughter of Henry VIII and Catherine of Aragon. Henry VIII was married to three different Catherines; this was the first one. "
"Ohhhh!"
I shared her surprise. Much as I have loved and studied the Elizabethan Era, many of its major details continue to escape me. If asked, I would have pegged Elizabeth's death at 1601 or 1602, not 1603. Also, I could not have explained the different Marys. I was clear on the three Catherines, and I know--bless Dr. Vanderpoel!--that Anne Bolyn had a sixth fingernail growing out of each pinky (which is a little bit gross, if you think about it), and had a mole on her neck and was considered to be a witch by many.
From there we strayed somehow into turkey soup and talking over classical composers. The comparative virtues of Bach, Mozart, Beethoven, and Tchaikovsky were discussed at length, along with The Nutcracker and whether or not we wanted rice and carrots in the soup. The Ride of the Valkyries and Disney's new Fantasia and Rhapsody in Blue all figured in our soup-making conversation, while 103.5 played softly in the background.
My Nana can make a soup. She also knows classical music, and art, and paints, and is quite good. "If I were to play an instrument," she told me, "it would be the cello. Violins are just a little squeaky." I couldn't quite agree, because I love a well-played violin...but I hate a high and reedy one. We decided to compromise on the viola. The cello is not quite in my nature, as it is in hers. I'm just not that reddish-brown; I tend toward silver and blue. Flutes appeal to me, and so does Mozart, and I can appreciate a cello. Indeed, I love Bach's first cello suite. But... but something. Personality? Something.
"I love the Dutch painters," she said. "The things that they can do with light streaming in and colors!"
"I'll take you to the National Art Gallery," I promised. We talked about her trip to Vienna, and our joint trip to Italy.
"Which was your favorite city, Nana?"
"Oh, my! I loved Florence, and Venice, and Pompeii."
I smiled. Memories...
Now Nana has bundled up in her fleecy jacket and gone up the street to bed. Charity and Marjorie are amusing themselves somewhere. David is alternately writing his last school project and distracting me with funnies from the newspaper. Something soft and classical pours from the computer speakers. It occurs to me, my dear, that I am one of the richest people I know. I mean... all this, and Heaven too!
Gratias ago, Domine, qui mihi dat vitam aeternam! Da mihi Domine scire et intellegere... et amare... et orare.
"Can I stay another week?" I asked playfully.
"Well, okay. One more week." Charity said.
Nana, Charity, and I were relaxing together while making turkey soup, since Mom and Dad had a Christmas party to attend, and Marjorie was wrapping presents. It's been a hectic day. This morning, Mom surveyed her six children as we stood gathered around the kitchen counter, and said, "Kids, Christmas is next Saturday, and because of the Mexico trip we're only now starting the shopping. This is insane."
Yes, it really is.
Today we had our traditional "Assault on the Mall." The whole family, armed with six cell phones, "plastic" (credit cards), and the envelopes containing Christmas lists, hit Lakeforest at 10:00 AM. It was beautiful! The cell phones kept us coordinated, and the Starbucks--which a benefactor of mankind had thought to place in the exact center of the mall--was a most convenient meeting place. Our surgical strike forces split and struck... and then all we had to do was keep so-and-so from peeking into somebody else's bag.
"Charity Anne, don't you dare look in my bag!"
"Did you get me a turtle?"
"I'm not going to tell you, silly!"
Charity loves turtles. She loves them as keychains or collectible spoons, as figurines or plush toys, on sweatshirts and mugs... you name it. From ten to two we shopped, with a brief interlude at the food court, where Charity and Mike played chess with the locals while the rest of us looked on.
Mike grinned at me over lunch. "Chris, I finished The First Circle. I was up until 5 AM this morning, but I finished it."
"Lunatic! How was it?"
"It. Was. Good."
I smiled at his emphasis. "My turn now, right?"
The shopping went on until 2 PM. We were ready to drop, but a satisfying pile of presents had been assimilated. I can't describe them, my dear; I'm itching to do it, but if this post fell into the wrong hands....well. Christmas secrets, you know. Charity and Marjorie took me out to see The Incredibles next, and then we wound up at Coldstone, which Marjorie has been wanting to visit for the past five months. I was pleased and amused to see my sisters' reaction to Coldstone ice cream (highly favorable), but we had the most bizarre conversation coming out of the theater and on our way there. It began when the end credits started to roll.
"How did you like it, Christy?" Marjorie asked. Unthinkingly, I replied, "Good, but I find the Nihilism somewhat disturbing." They laughed at me, and I laughed at myself. I'm not at PHC any more, Toto! But then Marjorie asked, "Why?"
I spent the entire trip to the parking garage, and then across town to Coldstone, giving Marjorie a brief (but I hope thorough) lesson in nihilism, beginning with the Latin nihil and ranging over Nietzsche, World Wars I & II, the relations between Jews and the rest of Europe from 70 AD on, 1930's Germany, the Weimar Republic, Medieval treatment of Jews as a race, the concept of "beyond good and evil," the Superman, etc. etc. etc. Charity supplemented, and Marjorie stayed interested.
It was astonishing that an animated Pixar film could spark such a discussion, but really, the undertones of that movie are only one step away from Nihilism. Its ideology is one of, "If 'everybody is special,' then no one is. These superheroes are special (read: ubermensch), and they should be allowed to exist as 'special people.'" What disturbed me was the premise that some folks are just plain better than others. It seemed a very short step from there to Raskolnikov and the Holocaust and Aryans and all the rest. I may be wrong, of course... but that was my first impression.
Marjorie's attention and intelligent questioning was a delight. She's grown up so much. Yesterday, she was preparing to write an essay on the possibility of Democrats trying to secede from the Union on account of their most recent election loss. My almost-fourteen-year-old sister is reading the newpaper and commenting on politics!
We got back, and Nana came over. The talk began with Ruled Britannia, but we were soon on the Elizabethan Era. I pulled out Worldbook Encyclopedia and began to read excerpts out loud while we sat in the Family Room admiring the tree, the fire, and the Christmas lights.
"You mean that Bloody Mary and Mary, Queen of Scots, weren't the same person?" Nana asked, sounding surprised.
"No ma'am. Mary Stuart (Mary, Queen of Scots) was Elizabeth's cousin, and her son James Stuart became James VI and succeeded to the throne of England after Elizabeth died in 1603. Bloody Mary was Elizabeth's half-sister, daughter of Henry VIII and Catherine of Aragon. Henry VIII was married to three different Catherines; this was the first one. "
"Ohhhh!"
I shared her surprise. Much as I have loved and studied the Elizabethan Era, many of its major details continue to escape me. If asked, I would have pegged Elizabeth's death at 1601 or 1602, not 1603. Also, I could not have explained the different Marys. I was clear on the three Catherines, and I know--bless Dr. Vanderpoel!--that Anne Bolyn had a sixth fingernail growing out of each pinky (which is a little bit gross, if you think about it), and had a mole on her neck and was considered to be a witch by many.
From there we strayed somehow into turkey soup and talking over classical composers. The comparative virtues of Bach, Mozart, Beethoven, and Tchaikovsky were discussed at length, along with The Nutcracker and whether or not we wanted rice and carrots in the soup. The Ride of the Valkyries and Disney's new Fantasia and Rhapsody in Blue all figured in our soup-making conversation, while 103.5 played softly in the background.
My Nana can make a soup. She also knows classical music, and art, and paints, and is quite good. "If I were to play an instrument," she told me, "it would be the cello. Violins are just a little squeaky." I couldn't quite agree, because I love a well-played violin...but I hate a high and reedy one. We decided to compromise on the viola. The cello is not quite in my nature, as it is in hers. I'm just not that reddish-brown; I tend toward silver and blue. Flutes appeal to me, and so does Mozart, and I can appreciate a cello. Indeed, I love Bach's first cello suite. But... but something. Personality? Something.
"I love the Dutch painters," she said. "The things that they can do with light streaming in and colors!"
"I'll take you to the National Art Gallery," I promised. We talked about her trip to Vienna, and our joint trip to Italy.
"Which was your favorite city, Nana?"
"Oh, my! I loved Florence, and Venice, and Pompeii."
I smiled. Memories...
Now Nana has bundled up in her fleecy jacket and gone up the street to bed. Charity and Marjorie are amusing themselves somewhere. David is alternately writing his last school project and distracting me with funnies from the newspaper. Something soft and classical pours from the computer speakers. It occurs to me, my dear, that I am one of the richest people I know. I mean... all this, and Heaven too!
Gratias ago, Domine, qui mihi dat vitam aeternam! Da mihi Domine scire et intellegere... et amare... et orare.
posted by Praelucor at 8:42 PM
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