Rivendell Press

I've moved

2005-06-14T09:02:00.000-04:00

My new blog is at:

Thanks for reading. :-) Karen

On Youth Groups

2005-06-06T08:31:00.000-04:00

My oldest ds Ben turned 12 a few weeks ago. He's excited because this brings various new opportunites at church such as youth group involvement, going on missions trips and such. I'm excited for him, but I don't think I like this youth group thing.

Friday night I arrived early to pick up said son from youth group. The group was in the sanctuary singing hymns and praise songs. My son has lots of computer experience so he's been working the powerpoint, another feel good about getting older privilege for him. Imagine my surprise when I see ***FIVE*** girls hanging all over my son, teasing him and mock arguing over him to each other. Helllllll-o! Momma of course casually walked over, and in essence told to chippies to scram.

So darling Lou (my husband) and I spent the weekend talking to to my son about girls, flirting, personal space, and what God wants for him. ::Sigh:: I did not expect to be having this conversation at 12, 15 or 16 maybe, but 12?!?

If I just start talking will anyone notice I've been gone for 3 months?

2005-06-06T08:29:00.000-04:00

do-do-do-do-do.

Poems from Sense and Sensibility

2005-03-18T12:14:00.000-05:00

One of my favorite movies is "Sense and Sensibility" starring Emma Thompson, Kate Winslet, and Alan Rickman. Emma Thompson did a wonderful job with the adaptation. I especially love the contrast between the sonnet recited by Willoughby and the stanza read by Col. Brandon in light of Marianne's views on second attachments. I wanted to hear the parts of the poem not included in the movie. So for your enjoyment, here are the complete poems with the exception of The Faerie Queene which is simply too long. 8-S

The Castaway by William Cowper

OBSCUREST night involved the sky,
The Atlantic billows roared,
When such a destined wretch as I,
Washed headlong from on board,
Of friends, of hope, of all bereft,
His floating home for ever left.

No braver chief could Albion boast
Than he with whom he went,
Nor ever ship left Albion’s coast
With warmer wishes sent.
He loved them both, but both in vain,
Nor him beheld, nor her again.

Not long beneath the whelming brine,
Expert to swim, he lay;
Nor soon he felt his strength decline,
Or courage die away;
But waged with death a lasting strife,
Supported by despair of life.

He shouted: nor his friends had failed
To check the vessel’s course,
But so the furious blast prevailed
That, pitiless perforce,
They left their outcast mate behind,
And scudded still before the wind.

Some succour yet they could afford;
And such as storms allow,
The cask, the coop, the floated cord,
Delayed not to bestow.
But he (they knew) nor ship nor shore,
Whate’er they gave, should visit more.

Nor, cruel as it seemed, could he
Their haste himself condemn,
Aware that flight, in such a sea,
Alone could rescue them;
Yet bitter felt it still to die
Deserted, and his friends so nigh.

He long survives, who lives an hour
In ocean, self-upheld;
And so long he, with unspent power,
His destiny repelled;
And ever, as the minutes flew,
Entreated help, or cried ‘Adieu!’

At length, his transient respite past,
His comrades, who before
Had heard his voice in every blast,
Could catch the sound no more:
For then, by toil subdued, he drank
The stifling wave, and then he sank.

No poet wept him; but the page
Of narrative sincere,
That tells his name, his worth, his age
Is wet with Anson’s tear:
And tears by bards or heroes shed
Alike immortalize the dead.

I therefore purpose not, or dream,
Descanting on his fate,
To give the melancholy theme
A more enduring date:
But misery still delights to trace
Its semblance in another’s case.

No voice divine the storm allayed,
No light propitious shone,
When, snatched from all effectual aid,
We perished, each alone:
But I beneath a rougher sea,
And whelmed in deeper gulfs than he.

Sonnet VII by Hartley Coleridge

Is love a fancy, or a feeling? No.
It is immortal as immaculate Truth,
'Tis not a blossom shed as soon as youth,
Drops from the stem of life--for it will grow,
In barren regions, where no waters flow,
Nor rays of promise cheats the pensive gloom.

A darkling fire, faint hovering o'er a tomb,
That but itself and darkness nought doth show,

It is my love's being yet it cannot die,
Nor will it change, though all be changed beside;
Though fairest beauty be no longer fair,
Though vows be false, and faith itself deny,
Though sharp enjoyment be a suicide,
And hope a spectre in a ruin bare

Sonnet 116 by William Shakespeare

Let me not to the marriage of true minds
Admit impediments. Love is not love
Which alters when it alteration finds,
Or bends with the remover to remove:
O, no! it is an ever-fixed mark,
That looks on tempests and is never shaken;
It is the star to every wandering bark,
Whose worth's unknown, although his height be taken.
Love's not Time's fool, though rosy lips and cheeks
Within his bending sickle's compass come;
Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks,
But bears it out even to the edge of doom.
If this be error and upon me proved,
I never writ, nor no man ever loved.

The Faerie Queene by Edmund Spenser
Book V Canto II stanza 39

Of things vnseene how canst thou deeme aright,
Then answered the righteous Artegall ,
Sith thou misdeem'st so much of things in sight?
What though the sea with waues continuall
Doe eate the earth, it is no more at all:
Ne is the earth the lesse, or loseth ought,
For whatsoeuer from one place doth fall,
Is with the tide vnto an other brought:
For there is nothing lost, that may be found, if sought.

CAESAR: The Ides of March are come.

2005-03-15T10:13:00.000-05:00

People ask me, "Why do you spend so much time and energy on a classical education. Are your children really going to use latin, logic, or rhetoric?" This scene from Shakespeare's "Julius Caesar" is a good example of why I do.

Act III, Scene ii:

CITIZENS:
We will be satisfied; let us be satisfied.

BRUTUS:
Then follow me, and give me audience, friends.—
Cassius, go you into the other street
And part the numbers.—
Those that will hear me speak, let 'em stay here;
Those that will follow Cassius, go with him;
And public reasons shall be rendered
Of Caesar's death.

FIRST CITIZEN:
I will hear Brutus speak.

SECOND CITIZEN:
I will hear Cassius; and compare their reasons,
When severally we hear them rendered.

THIRD CITIZEN:
The noble Brutus is ascended: silence!

BRUTUS:
Be patient till the last.
Romans, countrymen, and lovers! Hear me for my cause; and be
silent, that you may hear: believe me for mine honour, and have
respect to mine honor, that you may believe: censure me in your
wisdom; and awake your senses, that you may the better judge.
If there be any in this assembly, any dear friend of Caesar's, to
him I say that Brutus' love to Caesar was no less than his. If
then that friend demand why Brutus rose against Caesar, this is
my answer,—Not that I loved Caesar less, but that I loved Rome
more. Had you rather Caesar were living, and die all slaves, than
that Caesar were dead, to live all freemen? As Caesar loved me, I
weep for him; as he was fortunate, I rejoice at it; as he was
valiant, I honour him; but, as he was ambitious, I slew him.
There is tears for his love; joy for his fortune; honour for his
valour; and death for his ambition. Who is here so base that
would be a bondman? If any, speak; for him have I offended. Who
is here so rude that would not be a Roman? If any, speak; for him
have I offended. Who is here so vile that will not love his
country? If any, speak; for him have I offended. I pause for a
reply.

CITIZENS:
None, Brutus, none.

BRUTUS:
Then none have I offended. I have done no more to Caesar
than you shall do to Brutus. The question of his death is
enroll'd in the Capitol, his glory not extenuated, wherein he
was worthy;, nor his offenses enforced, for which he suffered
death.

[Enter Antony and others, with Caesar's body.]

Here comes his body, mourned by Mark Antony, who, though he had
no hand in his death, shall receive the benefit of his dying, a
place in the commonwealth; as which of you shall not? With this
I depart—that, as I slew my best lover for the good of Rome, I
have the same dagger for myself, when it shall please my country
to need my death.

CITIZENS:
Live, Brutus! live, live!

FIRST CITIZEN:
Bring him with triumph home unto his house.

SECOND CITIZEN:
Give him a statue with his ancestors.

THIRD CITIZEN:
Let him be Caesar.

FOURTH CITIZEN:
Caesar's better parts
Shall be crown'd in Brutus.

FIRST CITIZEN:
We'll bring him to his house with shouts and clamours.

BRUTUS:
My countrymen,—

SECOND CITIZEN:
Peace! silence! Brutus speaks.

FIRST CITIZEN:
Peace, ho!

BRUTUS:
Good countrymen, let me depart alone,
And, for my sake, stay here with Antony:
Do grace to Caesar's corpse, and grace his speech
Tending to Caesar's glory; which Mark Antony,
By our permission, is allow'd to make.
I do entreat you, not a man depart,
Save I alone, till Antony have spoke.

FIRST CITIZEN:
Stay, ho! and let us hear Mark Antony.

THIRD CITIZEN:
Let him go up into the public chair;
We'll hear him.—Noble Antony, go up.

ANTONY:
For Brutus' sake, I am beholding to you.

FOURTH CITIZEN:
What does he say of Brutus?

THIRD CITIZEN:
He says, for Brutus' sake,
He finds himself beholding to us all.

FOURTH CITIZEN:
'Twere best he speak no harm of Brutus here.

FIRST CITIZEN:
This Caesar was a tyrant.

THIRD CITIZEN:
Nay, that's certain:
We are blest that Rome is rid of him.

SECOND CITIZEN:
Peace! let us hear what Antony can say.

ANTONY:
You gentle Romans,—

CITIZENS:
Peace, ho! let us hear him.

ANTONY:
Friends, Romans, countrymen, lend me your ears;
I come to bury Caesar, not to praise him.
The evil that men do lives after them;
The good is oft interred with their bones:
So let it be with Caesar. The noble Brutus
Hath told you Caesar was ambitious:
If it were so, it was a grievous fault;
And grievously hath Caesar answer'd it.
Here, under leave of Brutus and the rest,—
For Brutus is an honourable man;
So are they all, all honorable men,—
Come I to speak in Caesar's funeral.
He was my friend, faithful and just to me:
But Brutus says he was ambitious;
And Brutus is an honourable man.
He hath brought many captives home to Rome,
Whose ransoms did the general coffers fill:
Did this in Caesar seem ambitious?
When that the poor have cried, Caesar hath wept:
Ambition should be made of sterner stuff:
Yet Brutus says he was ambitious;
And Brutus is an honourable man.
You all did see that on the Lupercal
I thrice presented him a kingly crown,
Which he did thrice refuse: was this ambition?
Yet Brutus says he was ambitious;
And, sure, he is an honourable man.
I speak not to disprove what Brutus spoke,
But here I am to speak what I do know.
You all did love him once,—not without cause:
What cause withholds you, then, to mourn for him?—
O judgment, thou art fled to brutish beasts,
And men have lost their reason!—Bear with me;
My heart is in the coffin there with Caesar,
And I must pause till it come back to me.

FIRST CITIZEN:
Methinks there is much reason in his sayings.

SECOND CITIZEN:
If thou consider rightly of the matter,
Caesar has had great wrong.

THIRD CITIZEN:
Has he not, masters?
I fear there will a worse come in his place.

FOURTH CITIZEN:
Mark'd ye his words? He would not take the crown;
Therefore 'tis certain he was not ambitious.

FIRST CITIZEN:
If it be found so, some will dear abide it.

SECOND CITIZEN:
Poor soul! his eyes are red as fire with weeping.

THIRD CITIZEN:
There's not a nobler man in Rome than Antony.

FOURTH CITIZEN:
Now mark him; he begins again to speak.

ANTONY:
But yesterday the word of Caesar might
Have stood against the world: now lies he there,
And none so poor to do him reverence.
O masters, if I were disposed to stir
Your hearts and minds to mutiny and rage,
I should do Brutus wrong and Cassius wrong,
Who, you all know, are honourable men:
I will not do them wrong; I rather choose
To wrong the dead, to wrong myself, and you,
Than I will wrong such honourable men.
But here's a parchment with the seal of Caesar,—
I found it in his closet,—'tis his will:
Let but the commons hear this testament,—
Which, pardon me, I do not mean to read,—
And they would go and kiss dead Caesar's wounds,
And dip their napkins in his sacred blood;
Yea, beg a hair of him for memory,
And, dying, mention it within their wills,
Bequeathing it as a rich legacy
Unto their issue.

FOURTH CITIZEN:
We'll hear the will: read it, Mark Antony.

CITIZENS:
The will, the will! We will hear Caesar's will.

ANTONY:
Have patience, gentle friends, I must not read it;
It is not meet you know how Caesar loved you.
You are not wood, you are not stones, but men;
And, being men, hearing the will of Caesar,
It will inflame you, it will make you mad.
'Tis good you know not that you are his heirs;
For if you should, O, what would come of it!

FOURTH CITIZEN:
Read the will! we'll hear it, Antony;
You shall read us the will,—Caesar's will!

ANTONY:
Will you be patient? will you stay awhile?
I have o'ershot myself to tell you of it:
I fear I wrong the honorable men
Whose daggers have stabb'd Caesar; I do fear it.

FOURTH CITIZEN:
They were traitors: honourable men!

CITIZENS:
The will! The testament!

SECOND CITIZEN:
They were villains, murderers. The will! read the will!

ANTONY:
You will compel me, then, to read the will?
Then make a ring about the corpse of Caesar,
And let me show you him that made the will.
Shall I descend? and will you give me leave?

CITIZENS:
Come down.

SECOND CITIZEN:
Descend.

[He comes down.]

THIRD CITIZEN:
You shall have leave.

FOURTH CITIZEN:
A ring! stand round.

FIRST CITIZEN:
Stand from the hearse, stand from the body.

SECOND CITIZEN:
Room for Antony!—most noble Antony!

ANTONY:
Nay, press not so upon me; stand far' off.

CITIZENS:
Stand back; room! bear back.

ANTONY:
If you have tears, prepare to shed them now.
You all do know this mantle: I remember
The first time ever Caesar put it on;
'Twas on a Summer's evening, in his tent,
That day he overcame the Nervii.
Look, in this place ran Cassius' dagger through:
See what a rent the envious Casca made:
Through this the well-beloved Brutus stabb'd;
And as he pluck'd his cursed steel away,
Mark how the blood of Caesar follow'd it,—
As rushing out of doors, to be resolved
If Brutus so unkindly knock'd, or no;
For Brutus, as you know, was Caesar's angel:
Judge, O you gods, how dearly Caesar loved him!
This was the most unkindest cut of all;
For when the noble Caesar saw him stab,
Ingratitude, more strong than traitors' arms,
Quite vanquish'd him: then burst his mighty heart;
And, in his mantle muffling up his face,
Even at the base of Pompey's statua,
Which all the while ran blood, great Caesar fell.
O, what a fall was there, my countrymen!
Then I, and you, and all of us fell down,
Whilst bloody treason flourish'd over us.
O, now you weep; and, I perceive, you feel
The dint of pity: these are gracious drops.
Kind souls, what, weep you when you but behold
Our Caesar's vesture wounded? Look you here,
Here is himself, marr'd, as you see, with traitors.

FIRST CITIZEN:
O piteous spectacle!

SECOND CITIZEN:
O noble Caesar!

THIRD CITIZEN:
O woeful day!

FOURTH CITIZEN:
O traitors, villains!

FIRST CITIZEN:
O most bloody sight!

SECOND CITIZEN:
We will be revenged.

CITIZENS:
Revenge,—about,—seek,—burn,—fire,—kill,—slay,—let not a traitor live!

ANTONY:
Stay, countrymen.

FIRST CITIZEN:
Peace there! hear the noble Antony.

SECOND CITIZEN:
We'll hear him, we'll follow him, we'll die with him.

ANTONY:
Good friends, sweet friends, let me not stir you up
To such a sudden flood of mutiny.
They that have done this deed are honourable:
What private griefs they have, alas, I know not,
That made them do it; they're wise and honourable,
And will, no doubt, with reasons answer you.
I come not, friends, to steal away your hearts:
I am no orator, as Brutus is;
But, as you know me all, a plain blunt man,
That love my friend; and that they know full well
That gave me public leave to speak of him:
For I have neither wit, nor words, nor worth,
Action, nor utterance, nor the power of speech,
To stir men's blood: I only speak right on;
I tell you that which you yourselves do know;
Show you sweet Caesar's wounds, poor dumb mouths,
And bid them speak for me: but were I Brutus,
And Brutus Antony, there were an Antony
Would ruffle up your spirits, and put a tongue
In every wound of Caesar, that should move
The stones of Rome to rise and mutiny.

CITIZENS:
We'll mutiny.

FIRST CITIZEN:
We'll burn the house of Brutus.

THIRD CITIZEN:
Away, then! come, seek the conspirators.

ANTONY:
Yet hear me, countrymen; yet hear me speak.

CITIZENS:
Peace, ho! hear Antony; most noble Antony!

ANTONY:
Why, friends, you go to do you know not what.
Wherein hath Caesar thus deserved your loves?
Alas, you know not; I must tell you then:
You have forgot the will I told you of.

CITIZENS:
Most true; the will!—let's stay, and hear the will.

ANTONY:
Here is the will, and under Caesar's seal.
To every Roman citizen he gives,
To every several man, seventy-five drachmas.

SECOND CITIZEN:
Most noble Caesar!—we'll revenge his death.

THIRD CITIZEN:
O, royal Caesar!

ANTONY:
Hear me with patience.

CITIZENS:
Peace, ho!

ANTONY:
Moreover, he hath left you all his walks,
His private arbors, and new-planted orchards,
On this side Tiber: he hath left them you,
And to your heirs forever; common pleasures,
To walk abroad, and recreate yourselves.
Here was a Caesar! when comes such another?

FIRST CITIZEN:
Never, never.—Come, away, away!
We'll burn his body in the holy place,
And with the brands fire the traitors' houses.
Take up the body.

SECOND CITIZEN:
Go, fetch fire.

THIRD CITIZEN:
Pluck down benches.

FOURTH CITIZEN:
Pluck down forms, windows, any thing.

[Exeunt Citizens, with the body.]

ANTONY:
Now let it work.—Mischief, thou art afoot,
Take thou what course thou wilt!—

The Juvenile Orator

2005-01-27T06:29:00.000-05:00

An encouragement for our young students and their teachers

You'd scarce expect one of my age
To speak in public, on the stage;
And if I chance to fall below
Demosthenes or Cicero,
Don't view me with a critic's eye,
But pass my imperfections by.

Large streams from little fountains flow;
Tall oaks from little acorns grow;
And though I now am small and young,
Of judgement weak, and feeble tongue,
Yet all great learned men - like me -
Once learned to read their A, B, C.

And why may not Columbia's soil
Rear men as great as Britain's isle,
Exceed what Greece and Rome have done,
Or any land beneath the sun?

Those thoughts inspire my youthful mind
To be the greatest of mankind;
Great, not like Caesar, stained with blood;
But only great, as I am good.*
~ David Everett.

* The last line makes my reformed mind twitch a bit(lol).

Pressing On

2005-01-27T06:07:00.000-05:00

It has been really hard to get back to my responsibilities since the death of my brother. I have spent the last week mourning, being angry at everyone from my brother that passed away, to my brother who lived with him, to his doctor, to my mother and father, at the world for not stopping. Praise God I haven't tarried long in any of those places. So each day is pressing on, knowing that death is not the end, but with lingering saddness because I miss my big brother and I'm not sure where he is today. There have been some reports from believing familiy members that my brother, his name is Richard by the way, had been turning his heart toward God's call. I find comfort in that. But, ultimately my greatest comfort has come from God's words, His Spirit, and his people.

Now, to steal a line (somewhat) from one of my favorite bloggers - Go Kiss Your Siblings :-)

Taking a Bite Out of the Big Apple

2005-01-10T13:57:00.000-05:00

January 9, 2005 started out like any other Sunday. We were all rushing around trying to get ready for the 8:30 AM church service. My husband is one of the worship leaders and since I thought he was leading this day there was even more angst in our ablutions. Normally we would take 2 cars, but since January 9 is my birthday we decided on riding together so after church we could drive over to our favorite family restaurant for a birthday lunch together.

We were running a little behind schedule and dh was given his usual, "Come on, let's get going." pep talk. Finally we are all in the car and on our way. Now my dh is a wonderful man, but he gets lost in thought when he's driving and will often miss an exit. Therefore, I did not think it unusual when he passed the first exit we could have taken for church. "Honey, you missed the exit." said I. "Rats! I was thinking of the music. Now I'm really going to be late." he said. I did my shake the head thing that I sometimes do when dh isn't thinking. It's 2 miles to the next exit and he's in the middle lane. We go about a mile and a quarter, and then unable to hold my tongue I say, "Are you going to get in the right lane or what :-/." He begins fumbling around, trying to move over, but there is a car on our right that prevents us from doing so. We miss the exit. Now I'm a little annoyed because this is one of his habits that is, well, annoying to me. "Now what?" I say in a little snotty tone. He is trying not to laugh. "What's so funny darling?" He then tells me we are not going to church. We are dropping the kids at his sister's and we are going out for the day. Gotcha!

I spent a wonderful day in Manhattan. We had lunch at Trattoria Dell’ Arte on 7th and 57th. It was delicious. Our meal ended with the wait staff singing “Happy Birthday Total Stranger” to me and then an entire ladder company for the NYFD showed up! We were eating our dessert when 1 truck, then a 2nd, then a 3rd, then a 4TH! truck parked in front of the building. Firefighters entered with axes and some had their masks on. Then 2 HazMat trucks pull up along with another fire truck and 2 NYC police cars. 7th Avenue was completely blocked. Hello? Should we be evacuating the building or should I just finish my cannoli? Turns out, someone in the back began coughing, sneezing, and had teary eyes before fainting and the thought was there may have been some hazardous chemicals around, but they didn’t think it would get to us. O.K. I never saw so many tourists taking pictures of firefighters in my life! I wonder if the firefighters are feel a bit of celebrity since 9/11. Not that they would want it.

After our exciting lunch, we walked the theater district for a hour or so. There is a Starbucks on every corner. I am not exaggerating, every corner and they were all standing room only. I still didn’t know what play we were seeing. Dh led me to Momma Mia, no not Mamma Mia. Then he led me to Wicked, no not wicked. Hairspray? No (thank goodness). Finally we cross the street and are at Little Women. Little Women? I thought it didn’t open until 1/23? Well it turns out that all plays have a time of preview before the official opening night. This was my 6th Broadway show and I didn’t know that. Now I do :-)

It was funny and touching. I cried a lot in the 2nd act. One unfortunate, unintentionally funny part happened during Beth’s goodbye scene to Jo. They were flying a kite in Cape Cod and it was supposed to fly away but got stuck on a rafter that was clearly visible to the audience. The stagehands were tugging from back stage and then a big gaff came out to try to grab it. It was hard to concentrate and I’m sure the two actresses were wondering why not a few people were giggling during such a touching scene. Mercifully, the stagehands gave up their quest until the end of the scene and then the proper flowing of tears resumed. I can’t say any of the songs were particularly memorable but the performances were outstanding as is the adaptation. I recommend it if you have the chance.

The History of Coffee

2005-01-06T15:50:00.000-05:00

While I was researching the history of coffee I came across a few amusing facts in the coffee timeline:

1453: Coffee is introduced to Constantinople by Ottoman Turks. The world's first coffee shop, Kiva Han, open there in 1475. Turkish law makes it legal for a woman to divorce her husband if he fail to provide her with her daily quota of coffee.

1668: Coffee replaces beer as New York's City's favorite breakfast drink.

1732: Johann Sevastian Bach composes his Kaffee-Kantate. Partly an ode to coffee and partly a stab at the movement in Germany to prevent women from drinking coffee (it was thought to make them sterile), the cantata includes the aria, "Ah! How sweet coffee taste! Lovelier than a thousand kisses, sweeter far than muscatel wine! I must have my coffee."

1773: The Boston Tea Party makes drinking coffee a patriotic duty in America.

1971: Starbucks opens its first store in Seattle's Pike Place public market, creating a frenzy over fresh-roasted whole bean coffee.

1995: Coffee is the worlds most popular beverage. More than 400 billion cups are consumed each year. It is a world commodity that is second only to oil.

Dear Blog ~ Sorry I haven't written lately

2005-01-05T01:34:00.000-05:00

Yeah, well. Here it is, January 5, 2005. The new year, the time to look back and look forward. What was fun, what worked, what fell like a souffle. What new things await, what hopes, dreams, and prayers we have for the future.

Our 2004 was a pretty boring year. We managed to make it through our first year of homeschooling without too many tears shed. We had quite an exciting science project when we discovered that we had tens of thousands of bees in one wall. 30 lbs of honey ~ yummy. The bee keeper who stopped by (Tony Buza, yes that's his real name) was really interesting to talk to and we hope to visit his farm soon. We spent the summer pool side, with a book or two and visited the happiest place on earth in between hurricanes in September before beginning our school year. With regard to curriculum, we didn't have too many casualties from the previous year. TOG, Saxon, Shurley, and Classical Writing still fill part of our day. We traded in Latina Christiana for Latin For Children and God's Design For Life science for Apologia (elementary). Truth be told, we actually haven't gotten to science yet but we will. Yeah.

In 2005 I am reading up more on classical education in the well, classical sense. So we have Sister Miriam Joseph's "The Trivium", Tracy Simmons' "Climbing Parnassus", along with "The Seven Laws of Teaching" on the bedside table. I'm still on the look out for "Composition in the Classical Tradition" by Frank D'Angelo. My brain hurts :-/ We will be starting greek soon ala "The Greek Alphabetarion" by Harvey Bluedorn. I can just hear my 11 yo now; "Mom?" "Yes ds11." "I asked Frank how his latin and greek studies were going and he said he doesn't have latin and greek and he said he's done with school in 2 hrs and gets to play legos the rest of the day." "Hmm, really." ::sigh::

I'm turning 40 in a few days. January the 9th :-S. I feel a little strange about it.

Other things to look forward to in 2005 (I hope):
Moving (maybe, hopefully). I would love a house with more than 1 bath. I did finally get a dishwasher for Christmas. I'm so thankful for that.
My kids finally forgetting about going back to school and embracing home schooling. It's been 1 1/2 yrs and they still long to return to school.
The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe movie

"So teach us to number our days,
That we may gain a heart of wisdom."
Psalm 90:12

A Poem for the New Year

2005-01-02T01:50:00.000-05:00

Ring Out, Wild Bells

Ring out, wild bells, to the wild sky,
The flying cloud, the frosty light;
The year is dying in the night;
Ring out, wild bells, and let him die.

Ring out the old, ring in the new,
Ring, happy bells, across the snow:
The year is going, let him go;
Ring out the false, ring in the true.

Ring out the grief that saps the mind,
For those that here we see no more,
Ring out the feud of rich and poor,
Ring in redress to all mankind.

Ring out a slowly dying cause,
And ancient forms of party strife;
Ring in the nobler modes of life,
With sweeter manners, purer laws.

Ring out the want, the care the sin,
The faithless coldness of the times;
Ring out, ring out my mournful rhymes,
But ring the fuller minstrel in.

Ring out false pride in place and blood,
The civic slander and the spite;
Ring in the love of truth and right,
Ring in the common love of good.

Ring out old shapes of foul disease,
Ring out the narrowing lust of gold;
Ring out the thousand wars of old,
Ring in the thousand years of peace.

Ring in the valiant man and free,
The larger heart, the kindlier hand;
Ring out the darkenss of the land,
Ring in the Christ that is to be.

-- Alfred, Lord Tennyson

Christmas Poems

2004-12-08T19:27:00.000-05:00

There are so many wonderful Christmas poems, some obsure and others well-known. I had thought to post a poem a day from one of the many books I've picked up over the years. Um, it's December 8 so I'm a little behind. :-)

A Christmas Carol

2004-12-08T19:25:00.000-05:00

In the bleak mid-winter
Frosty wind made moan,
Earth stood hard as iron,
Water like a stone;
Snow had fallen, snow on snow,
Snow on snow,
In the bleak mid-winter
Long ago.

Our God, Heaven cannot hold Him
Nor earth sustain;
Heaven and earth shall flee away
When he comes to reign;
In the bleak mid-winter
A stable-place sufficed
The Lord God Almighty
Jesus Christ.

Enough for Him, whom cherubim
Worship night and day,
A breastful of milk
And a mangerful of hay;
Enough for Him, whom angels
Fall down before,
The ox and ass and camel
Which adore.

Angels and archangels
May have gathered there,
Cherubim and seraphim
Thronged the air;
But only His mother
In her maiden bliss
Worshipped the Beloved
With a kiss.

What can I give Him
Poor as I am?
If I were a shepherd
I would bring a lamb,
If I were a Wise Man
I would do my part,-
Yet what can I give Him,
Give my heart.

-Christina Rossetti

A Grammar Rhyme

2004-11-22T14:32:00.000-05:00

I came across this cute rhyme in a book called "The Children's Hour: Old Fashioned Stories".

A Grammar Rhyme
by David B. Tower and Benjamin F. Tweed

A noun's the name of anything;
As, school or garden, hoop or swing.

Adjectives tell the kind of noun;
As, great, small, pretty, white, or brown.
Three of these words we often see,
Called articles - a, an, and the.

Instead of nouns the pronouns stand;
John's head, his face, my arm, your hand.

Verbs tell of something being done;
As read, write, spell, sing, jump, or run.

How things are done the adverbs tell;
As, slowly, quickly, ill, or well.
They also tell us where and when;
As here, and there, and now, and then.

A preposition stands before
A noun; as in, or through, a door.

Conjunctions sentences unite;
As kittens scratch and puppies bite.

The interjection shows surprise;
As, O, how pretty! Ah, how wise!

A Case for Classical Education

2004-11-15T13:29:00.000-05:00

People say New Yorkers can't get along. Not true. I saw two New Yorkers, complete strangers, sharing a cab. One guy took the tires and the radio; the other guy took the engine. ~ David Letterman

I have a few guilty pleasures. One of them is Ben and Jerry’s Chunky Monkey ice cream. Another one of is David Letterman. Perhaps it’s his caustic wit, his agoraphobic charm, or his mischievous grin. All of the above I think. Occasionally he has something on his show I deem offensive.

One night as I was typing away on the keyboard, listening with one ear, I heard the lyrics of a song by Pearl Jam. Pearl Jam was one of the bands along with Bruce Springsteen who were putting on concerts around the country to get people to vote for John F. Kerry and this song was one of the pieces they played. Here are those lyrics:

Come you masters of war, you that build all the guns
You that build the death place, you that build all the guns
You that hide behind walls, you that hide behind desks
I just want you to know, I can see through your masks

You that never done nothing, but to build and destroy
You play with my world, like its your little toy
You put a drug in my head, then you hide from my eyes
And you turn and run following the fast foolish lie

Like Judas of old, you lie and deceive
A world war can be won, you won't need to believe
But I see through your eyes, and I see through your brain
Like I see through the water that runs down my drain

You that fasten all the triggers, for the others to fire
Then you sit back and watch, while the death count gets higher
You hide in your mansion, while young people's blood
Flows out their bodies and is buried in the mud

You've thrown the worst fear, that could ever be hurled
The fear to bring children, into this world
For threatenin' my baby, unborn and unnamed
You ain't worth the blood that runs in your veins

How much do I know, to talk out of turn?
You might say that I'm young, you might say I'm unlearned
But there's one thing I know, though I'm younger than you
Even Jesus would never forgive what you do

Let me ask you one question, is your money that good?
Will it buy you forgiveness? Do you think that it could?
Oh, I think you will find, when your death takes its toll
All the money you made will never buy back your soul

And I hope that you die, and your death will come soon
I'll follow your casket, in the pale afternoon
And I'll watch as your lowered, into your deathbed
And I'll stand on your grave till I'm sure that your dead

Do you know what upsets me the most about that song? A great majority of people this band is playing to have no skills in logic or rhetoric. Have you ever read a man in the street type of interview that was conducted on a college campus? It’s frightening! I am praying that when my sons are in college and beyond they will have the tools necessary to deal with messages like the one above. Above all else, I pray they will be wise in the Lord.

The mouth of the righteous is a well of life,
But violence covers the mouth of the wicked.
~ Proverbs 10:11

Why Study Poetry?

2004-11-14T16:34:00.000-05:00

“Out of our quarrels with others we make rhetoric. Out of our quarrels with ourselves we make poetry.” ~ William Butler Yeats

We are beginning our study of poetry this week using Classical Writing - Poetry for Beginners. In the back of my mind I keep hearing the voice-over used on The Odd Couple but this time is goes something like this:

"On November fifteenth two boys were asked to study the various forms and structures of poetry through analysis and imitation. That request came from their mother. Deep down they knew she was right. But they also knew that someday they would return to their Gamecube. Can two boys study poetry without driving their mother crazy?" Cue music.

So here come the age-old question; Why do I have to study this stuff? To me, the poem is one of the most powerful literary methods used to convey ideas or opinions. I want my boys to be able to feel the picture a writer is painting and good poetry does a much better job than good prose.

What do you think? Care to share what your thoughts are on this subject? Why study poetry?

And now for your edification, here is one of my favorite poems.

The Hollow Men ~ T.S. Eliot

2004-11-14T16:20:00.000-05:00

I.
We are the hollow men
We are the stuffed men
Leaning together
Headpiece filled with straw. Alas!
Our dried voices, when
We whisper together
Are quiet and meaningless
As wind in dry grass
Or rats' feet over broken glass
In our dry cellar

Shape without form, shade without colour,
Paralysed force, gesture without motion;

Those who have crossed
With direct eyes, to death's other Kingdom
Remember us -- if at all -- not as lost
Violent souls, but only
As the hollow men
The stuffed men.

II.
Eyes I dare not meet in dreams
In death's dream kingdom
These do not appear:
There, the eyes are
Sunlight on a broken column
There, is a tree swinging
And voices are
In the wind's singing
More distant and more solemn
Than a fading star.

Let me be no nearer
In death's dream kingdom
Let me also wear
Such deliberate disguises
Rat's coat, crowskin, crossed staves
In a field
Behaving as the wind behaves
No nearer --

Not that final meeting
In the twilight kingdom

III.
This is the dead land
This is cactus land
Here the stone images
Are raised, here they receive
The supplication of a dead man's hand
Under the twinkle of a fading star.

Is it like this
In death's other kingdom
Waking alone
At the hour when we are
Trembling with tenderness
Lips that would kiss
Form prayers to broken stone.

IV.
The eyes are not here
There are no eyes here
In this valley of dying stars
In this hollow valley
This broken jaw of our lost kingdoms

In this last of meeting places
We grope together
And avoid speech
Gathered on this beach of the tumid river

Sightless, unless
The eyes reappear
As the perpetual star
Multifoliate rose
Of death's twilight kingdom
The hope only
Of empty men.

V.
Here we go round the prickly pear
Prickly pear prickly pear
Here we go round the prickly pear
At five o'clock in the morning.

Between the idea
And the reality
Between the motion
And the act
Falls the Shadow

For Thine is the Kingdom

Between the conception
And the creation
Between the emotion
And the response
Falls the Shadow

Life is very long

Between the desire
And the spasm
Between the potency
And the existence
Between the essence
And the descent
Falls the Shadow
For Thine is the Kingdom

For Thine is
Life is
For Thine is the

This is the way the world ends
This is the way the world ends
This is the way the world ends
Not with a bang but a whimper.

My New Blog ~ An Introduction

2004-11-13T14:18:00.000-05:00

Yes, tis too true. I am now posting to this blog. Who am I? A homeschooling, Jesus freak, who loves to read all sorts of tales. I thought it would be fun to post various quotes and exerpts I come across during my wanderings as well as to think out loud from time to time. So this blog is a type of reading journal, albeit, one that is open to the scrutiny of others. From time to time, it will also be a place to share what we are learning in our home school. You are free to comment but please be kind. No ad hominem abusive fallacies allowed.

Karen

Wisdom from The Lord of the Rings

2004-11-13T10:37:00.000-05:00

For when life is hard:
Frodo : I can't do this Sam.
Sam : I know. It's all wrong. By rights we shouldn't even be here. But we are. It's like in the great stories, Mr. Frodo. The ones that really mattered. Full of darkness and danger, they were. And sometimes you didn't want to know the end. Because how could the end be happy? How could the world go back to the way it was when so much bad had happened? But in the end, it's only a passing thing, this shadow. Even darkness must pass. A new day will come. And when the sun shines it will shine out the clearer. Those were the stories that stayed with you. That meant something, even if you were too small to understand why. But I think, Mr. Frodo, I do understand. I know now. Folk in those stories had lots of chances of turning back, only they didn't. They kept going. Because they were holding on to something.
Frodo : What are we holding on to Sam?
Sam : That there's some good in this world, Mr. Frodo and it's worth fighting for.

For what's important:
All that is gold does not glitter,
Not all those who wander are lost;
The old that is strong does not wither,
Deep roots are not reached by the frost.
~Gandalf

For remembering that everyone can make a difference:
The road must be trod, but it will be very hard. And neither strength nor wisdom will carry us far upon it. This quest may be attempted by the weak with as much hope as the strong. Yet such is oft the course of deeds that move the wheels of the world: small hands do them because they must, while the eyes of the great are elsewhere.
~ Elrond. Book II, Chapter 2

To remind us we are all different:
Sam : What we need is a few good taters.
Gollum : What's taters, precious? What's taters, eh?
Sam : Po-tay-toes. Boil 'em, mash 'em, stick 'em in a stew. Lovely big golden chips with a nice piece of fried fish. Even you couldn't say no to that.
Gollum : Oh yes we could. Spoilin' nice fish. Give it to us raw and wrigglin'. You keep nasty chips.
Sam : You're hopeless.

And now for something completely different (click here)

Envoy For "A Child's Garden Of Verses" by Robert Louis Stevenson.

2004-11-03T17:16:00.000-05:00

Whether upon the garden seat
You lounge with your uplifted feet
Under the May's whole Heaven of blue;
Or whether on the sofa you,
No grown up person being by,
Do some soft corner occupy;
Take you this volume in your hands
And enter into other lands,
For lo! (as children feign) suppose
You, hunting in the garden rows,
Or in the lumbered attic, or
The cellar - a nail-studded door
And dark, descending stairway found
That led to kingdoms underground:
There standing, you should hear with ease
Strange birds a-singing, or the trees
Swing in big robber woods, or bells
On many fairy citadels:

There passing through (a step or so -
Neither mamma nor nurse need know!)
From your nice nurseries you would pass,
Like Alice through the Looking-Glass
Or Gerda following Little Ray,
To wondrous countries far away.
Well, and just so this volume can
Transport each little maid or man
Presto from where they live away
Where other children used to play.
As from the house your mother sees
You playing round the garden trees,
So you may see if you but look
Through the windows of this book
Another child far, far away
And in another garden play.
But do not think you can at all,
By knocking on the window, call
That child to hear you. He intent
Is still on his play-business bent.
He does not hear, he will not look,
Nor yet be lured out of this book.
For long ago, the truth to say,
He has grown up and gone away;
And it is but a child of air
That lingers in the garden there.

An Oompaloompas view on television

2004-10-30T16:22:00.000-04:00

I "made" my oldest son recite this at one of our home schooling speech meets. The parents all adored him for it, but sad to tell he got a lot of hairy eyeballs* from his fellow students. He has since forgiven me.

(*lifted from Patty in WA, a woman I admire on TWTM boards.)

The most important thing we've learned
So far as children are concerned,
Is never, never, NEVER let
Them near your television set--
Or better still, just don't install
The idiotic thing at all.
In almost every house we've been,
We've watched them gaping at the screen.
They loll and slop and lounge about,
And stare until their eyes pop out.
They sit and stare and stare and sit
Until they're hypnotized by it,
Until they're absolutely drunk
With all that shocking ghastly junk.
Oh yes, we know it keeps them still,
They don't climb out the window sill,
They never fight or kick or punch,
They leave you free to cook the lunch
And wash the dishes in the sink--
But did you ever stop to think,
To wonder just exactly what
This does to your beloved tot?
It rots the senses in the head!
It kills imagination dead!
It clogs and clutters up the mind!
It makes a child so dull and blind
He can no longer understand
A fantasy, a fairyland!
His brain becomes as soft as cheese!
His powers of thinking rust and freeze!
He cannot think--he only sees!
'All right!' you'll cry, 'All right!' you'll say
'But if we take the set away,
What shall we do to entertain
Our darling children? Please explain!'
We'll answer this by asking you,
What used the darling ones to do?
How used they keep themselves contended
Before this monster was invented?
Have you forgotten? Don't you know?
We'll say it very loud and slow:
THEY...USED...TO...READ!
They'd read and read,
And read and read, and then proceed
To read some more. Great Scott! Gadzooks!
One half their lives was reading books!
The nursery shelves held books galore!
Books cluttered up the nursery floor!
And in the bedroom, by the bed,
More books were waiting to be read!
Such wondrous, fine, fantastic tales
Of dragons, gypsies, queens, and whales
And treasure isles, and distant shores
Where smugglers rowed with muffled oars,
And pirates wearing purple pants,
And sailing ships and elephants,
And cannibal crouching 'round the pot,
Stirring away at something hot.
Oh, books, what books they used to know,
Those children living long ago!
So please, oh please, we beg, we pray,
Go throw your TV set away,
And in its place you can install
A lovely bookshelf on the wall.
Then fill the shelves with lots of books,
Ignoring all the dirty looks,
The screams and yells, the bites and kicks,
And children hitting you with sticks--
Fear not, because we promise you
That, in about a week or two
Of having nothing else to do,
They'll now begin to feel the need
Of having something good to read.
And once they start--oh boy, oh boy!
You watch the slowly growing joy
That fills their hearts. They'll grow so keen
They'll wonder what they'd ever seen
In that ridiculous machine,
That nauseating, foul unclean,
Repulsive television screen!
And later, each and every kid
Will love you more for what you did.

- the Oompaloompas
excerpted from "Charlie and the Chocolate Factory" by Roald Dahl

"IF" by Rudyard Kipling

2004-10-28T16:05:00.000-04:00

I would love to send this poem to every president whose term I am blessed to live through.

If you can keep your head when all about you
Are losing theirs and blaming it on you,
If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you
But make allowance for their doubting too,
If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,
Or being lied about, don't deal in lies,
Or being hated, don't give way to hating,
And yet don't look too good, nor talk too wise:

If you can dream--and not make dreams your master,
If you can think--and not make thoughts your aim;
If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster
And treat those two impostors just the same;
If you can bear to hear the truth you've spoken
Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,
Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken,
And stoop and build 'em up with worn-out tools:

If you can make one heap of all your winnings
And risk it all on one turn of pitch-and-toss,
And lose, and start again at your beginnings
And never breath a word about your loss;
If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew
To serve your turn long after they are gone,
And so hold on when there is nothing in you
Except the Will which says to them: "Hold on!"

If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,
Or walk with kings--nor lose the common touch,
If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you;
If all men count with you, but none too much,
If you can fill the unforgiving minute
With sixty seconds' worth of distance run,
Yours is the Earth and everything that's in it,
And--which is more--you'll be a Man, my son!

Rudyard Kipling