The Reading List For Advent And Nativity

Usually in June or July I start thinking about the coming of the Nativity Fast, Nativity, and Theophany. I keep an eye out for new books to add to the collection below. I mentioned the collection to a friend and she asked me for the list of titles. Here it is, mostly without comments.

In the Orthodox Church, The Nativity Fast, which is also called Advent start on Nov. 15 and continues through Decemer 24. The feast of the Nativity of Jesus, also called Christmas begins on December 25 and continues though December 31, which we call "The Leavetaking of Nativity. December 6 is the Feast of the Theopany. The period from December 25 through January 5 are commonly called the Twelve Days of Christmas. All the days between these dates I've mentioned are full of activity and observances but these dates are the major ones.

Beginning on November 15 we begin reading to our children the books from this collection, augmented by new purchases, gifts, and the pulic library.

Christ in the Old Testament
This is a very good book. Essentially, it is a collection of 14 or 15 Old Testament passages and their corresponding fulfilments in the New Testament. For example, on the page titled Root Of Jesse are Isaiah 11:1-2,10 and Luke 4:17-21. Now this might seem a liitle boring for pre-school children, and it is. But the illustrations by Niko Chocheli are captivating. A three year old can be kept busy counting crosses, or churches, or grape clusters. A 6 year old can be fascinated by the story salvation told in pictures all through the book. For example, on page is framing the scriptures is leviathan with a hook through his tongue, on the next is leviathan's carcass below the satisfied visage of a lion. And if one knows iconology and alcchemical symbology the illustrations (for example the pelican on the border of the page talking about the Creation of the world) on the pages do not just make the page pretty but call to mind layer upon layer of meaning.

Beginning on December 1 we read one installment each night of the Advent Storybook.

I can only give this book, The Jesse Tree by Geraldine McCaughrean a so/so recommendation. Its a good story but the writing syle is a little stiff and by youngest son was bored by it last Advent. He had just turned 4. The book is 24 chapters in which a boy interacts with a cranky old craftsman who is employed by a church to carve a Jesse Tree. It also tells the Story of Salvation, from Eden to Bethlehem. I got a kick out of the introduction that talked of "puritan vandals" destroying the icons in England. If you are a protestant you might not want to read the introduction aloud.

Books read on particular days:
A. On December 13 we read St. Herman of Alaska by S.A. Smith
B. On December 24 we read What Men Live By by Leo Tolstoy
C. Sometime during Hanukah we read The Latke Who Couldn't Stop Screaming by Lemony Snicket
D. On December 27 which is the the 3rd Day of Christmas, which is St. Stephen's Day we read Stephen's Feast by Alice Englander
E. On the day we begin decorating the house we read The First Noel by Jan Pienkowski and then hank it from the ceiling.


These are two activity books. Your kids might like looking at them but they are really for parents to use. These are a good homeschooler resource.
A. The Season of Christmas by Constance Tarasar (Orthodox Church in America, Dept. of Religious Education, 1980)
B. Advent Arts and Christmas Crafts by Jeanne Heiberg (Paulist Press, 1995)

Beginning on the on the Sunday before the Nativity, when it is just too hard to wait anymore, we start reading aloud from this list and don't stop until after Theophany:
1. Pappa's Itchy Christmas by Angela Shelf Medaris
2. The Toys' Night Before Christmas by Susanna Ronchi
3. The Remarkable Christmas of the Cobbler's Sons by Ruth Sawyer (If your children are little get ready to hear "Schnitzle! Schnotzle! and Schnootzle!" yelled very loudly and very often.)
4. The Animal's Merry Christmas by Richard Scarry
5. Great Joy by Kate DiCamillo
6. The Tale of the Three Trees by Angela Elwell Hunt
7. Corgyville Christmas by Tasha Tudor
8. One Wintery Night by Ruth Bell Graham
9. Angela and the Baby Jesus by Frank McCourt
10. A Christmas Treasury by Christian Birmingham (illus.)
11. The Nativity by Francesca Crespi (Its a Pop Up book and my 4 year old loved it last Christmas)
12. Christmas Day in the Morning by Pearl S. Buck (There will be tears.)
13. The Friendly Beasts by Tomie dePaola
14. A Cup of Christmas Tea by Tom Hegg
15. One Christmas by Truman Capote
16. A Treasury of Old Fashioned Christmas Stories by Michele Slung
17. The Miracle of the First Poinsettia by Joanne Oppenheim (I don't like this one too much but my kids boys do.)
18. Wenceslas by Geraldine McCaughrean (Same story, Better illstrations, but worse writing than Stephens Feast.)
19. I Saw Three Ships by Elizabeth Goudge (I can not recommend this book highly enough. So unbelieveably amazingly astoundingly good!!!!)
20. The Christmas Miracle of Jonathan Toomey
21.December by Eve Bunting


We also read the Christmas portiond of the Little House books, The Wind in the Willows, and The Keeping of Christmas at Brace Bridge Hall which is being published again after many decades as Old Christmas.

A new book that I am adding to the readings this year is O Holy Night: Masterworks of Christmas Poetry
There are a couple of books adult readers might enjoy (I did):
An Irish Country Christmas by Patrick Taylor
Shepherds Abiding by Jan Karon.

Basil's First Confession

My youngest son, Basil Wenceslas went to confession for the first time. I wasn't expecting it, and I didn't prepare him for it, and I have no idea what he might have confessed. But he wanted to go, and my eyes were off of him for a minute, so he ran up to the priest. I thought, "Well, hes already there..." I saw him and the priest talking by the Cross and the Gospel. I saw the priest nodding his head. Then Basil got on his knees and the priest prayed for him.

Later I asked him what the priest said, he started to tell me what he said instead and I said, "no no. We don't talk about things that don't exist anymore. When you go to confession God forgets so they no longer exist." He was puzzeld by that and said, "We can remind him next time". Sadly, that is often the case isn't it? But I said, "no we don't do that. But tell me, what did the priest say?" I was thinking maybe he gave Basil istructions for confession and I wan't to know what they were so I could remind Basil of them next time. But Basil said that all the priest said was "That's okay. That's okay." And I thought, "Yeah, that's right. Jesus makes everything okay."

The Feasts are Comming

We are just a few days away from the start of the two week fast that preceeds the Feast of the Dormition of the Theotokos. At about the midpoint of that fast is the feast of the Transfiguration. These are two of the Church's major feasts but sometimes they can be overwhelmed by the activities of Summer. Leah put something by St. John of Krondstat on her blog that we should all heed. I'm going to put the saying below, but you should still click on the link above a read all the helpful things on that blog. It's like a visit to a spiritual spa.

At the approach of a great feast you must watch yourself with particular care. The enemy endeavors beforehand to chill your heart towards the event being celebrated, so that you will not honor it by whole-heartedly considering its reality. He acts upon us through the weather, or through the food and drink we have taken, or through his own arrows thrown plentifully at the heart and inflaming the entire person, at which time evil, impure and blasphemous thoughts occur to us, and we feel thoroughly averse to the solemnity (of the feast). We must overcome the enemy by forcing ourselves to meditate and pray devoutly.

~St. John of Kronstadt

In Dreams: Saturday Soundtrack

Roy Orbison, whom Elvis Presley said was the best singer ever, wrote this song after forgetting another song, he said to himself, "A candy-colored clown they call the sand man" and went to sleep. During his sleep the song came to him, and when he awoke he made a quick demo. The first time the song was a hit was in 1963. The second time, in 1986, is when I remember hearing the song for the first time.

In early October 1986 had just come home from flunking out of the U.S. Army's Chaplain Assistant course (I couldn't type 20wpm. Now I do 60+. Go figure.) and no one was home to greet me. I didn't quite know what to do with myself so I went to see movie. The film was David Lynch's Blue Velvet. This song was featured in the film and I've like it ever since. Later on I'd see all of Lynch's films (I wonder what I saw in them now.) and serve in the 101st Airborne Division. But that first day back from failure, while seeking distraction, this song just floored me.

There is a funny story about Roy Orbison that Bruce Springsteen tells. He was was talking to Roy and said, "Roy I get up on stage and run around, and scream, and jump up and down, and just wear myself out to put on a good show, but you just walk out and stand there, and have the audience in the palm of your hand the whole time. How do you do that?" To which Roy replied, "Well, I'm a singer."

This is the video that came out with the Movie Blue Velvet.

Beginning to Feel Like Christmas

We had a cool day. I think the thermometer only got up to 75F in San Jose today, and its in the mid 50s now. I couldn't help thinking about Christmas, and hot cocoa all day. So, late this afternoon I went to the library and got this book to read to Basil Wenceslas. (Anselm Samuel is visiting his Aunt in San Francisco this week.) I got choked up by this story about a girl and a doll.

It isn't an explicitly Christian book, but in it we see that doing the right thing isn't always easy, that evil is vanquished in the end, that important things are going on in the world but people are blind to them, and that our lives are not complete when lived for ourselves alone. I might have to buy this book and add it to the Christmas book shelf. Hmmmm. I should probably post a list of all the Christmas books I read to the boys each year.

If it is still cool tomorrow, maybe, I'll make some hot cocoa.

Love: The beginning of theology

"Theology, mysticism, spirituality, moral rules, worship, art: these things must not be kept in separate compartments. Doctrine cannot be understood unless it is prayed: a theologian, said Evagrius, is one who knows how to pray, and he who prays in spirit and in truth is by that very act a theologian. And doctrine, if it is to be prayed, must also be lived: theology without action, as St. Maximus puts it, is the theology of demons. The creed belongs only to those who live it. Faith and love, theology and life, are inseparable. In the Byzantine Liturgy, the Creed is introduced with the words, ‘ Let us love one another, that with one mind we may confess Father, Son, and Holy Spirit, Trinity, one in essence and undivided.’ This exactly expresses the Orthodox attitude to Tradition. If we do not love one another, we cannot love God; and if we do not love God, we cannot make a true confession of faith and cannot enter into the inner spirit of Tradition, for there is no other way of knowing God than to love Him." - Bishop Kallistos

(Painting: "Two Peasant Women", 1878

Thinking about death

Sometimes, I think I have many years ahead of me. But other times, like right now and other times during the last two weeks I've wondered if I would live through the next few minutes. I've been having unusual chest pains. I've heard that heart attacks make a person's left arm hurt, and make a person feel short of breath. I've had neither of those symptoms but, still, it is a little worrisome. Well, that isn't really what I wanted to talk about. We all die sometime, don't we? There's nothing we can do about it but prepare for it. I have enough life insurance that my wife will be okay financially, at least for a few years. But there is eternity to think of. That is what I am, mainly, thinking about right now...

The hour of death will come upon us, it will come, and we shall not escape it. May the prince of this world and of the air (cf. John 14:30; Eph. 2:2) find our misdeeds few and petty when he comes, so that he will not have good grounds for convicting us.
Otherwise we shall weep in vain. ‘For that servant who knew his Lord’s will and did not do it as a servant, shall be beaten with many stripes’ (cf. Luke 12:47).

~St. Hesychius the Priest

I am looking forward to Confession later today. O God, be merciful to me.

The Apostles Speak to the Presbyterians

Good Vibrations: Saturday Soundtrack

Once again, the song I'm putting up here is one I first emmenating from my older brother Mark's (My mother and Ronald Reagan were Beach Boys fans, too.) room sometime between 1975 and 1979. There are other good Beach Boys songs but this one is associated with a very vivid memory from my several years (1982-1987) in Tampa. One Saturday a friend and I went to a water park called Adventure Island. It was one of the best days I ever had. And as I was reclining at the edge of a wave pool I heard this song. It just seemed to sum up the day and my hopes for the future.

The song was released by the Beach Boys in 1966 and immediately became a number one hit. Brian Wilson, the author and producer called it his pocket symphony. Mojo Magazine called the song "The Greatest Single Ever". Rolling Stone magazine ranked it #6 on their list of Greatest Songs of All Time.

Last Night

My friend Jeff and I got together. I think it might have been the first time since the Trisagion prayers for my son, Billy. On the way to San Francisco where we were to meet at Sam's Grill (It's the oldest restaurant in S.F., established just after the Civil War.) I was able to read much of one of my textbooks. That is, I think my favorite thing about the train: An hour and a half of near quiet, in a reasonably comfortable chair, and a good book.

When I got to San Francisco I got on the 30 to head up to Bush Street. I hadn't taken the 30 in a few years and wasn't entirely certain it was the right bus. I thought maybe the 45... Anyway, I asked the driver, "Does this bus go to Bush?" She slowly turned her head to look at me with her misshapen eyes, one lid almost closed. She paused to licked her lips - her tongue sliding over cobblestone teeth - and said in a whisper "All buses go to Bush". Then she turned to face the front of the bus, laughed, and floored the accelerator pedal. I fell over into an empty seat but righted myself before the next stop. And that is where - surprise! - my friend Anastasia got on the bus! We had a short but fun conversation about our books (we are both writers). Short because she had to get off at Market Street but fun nonetheless.

I got off near Bush and walked over to Sam's where I drank Wild Turkey on the rocks until Jeff got there. For dinner he had sole. I had veal. I really wanted the calf liver but felt it was overpriced. After dinner, which was very good, we walked up Belden Place to pine and the Occidental.

The Occidental is one of the few places in California where you can smoke inside without breaking a law. They are able to allow smoking because the owners are the only people who work there. It was a great good time. Barman Jake was really happy to pour samples. I tasted a 50 year old Irish Whisky (I forget the name now) that was the best whiskey I ever tasted. It is my opinion that most whiskey is too sweet and that sweetness smothers all the other flavors, but not this one. I tell you, I could taste the dirt of County Cork in that glass!

After a Fonseca 10-10 Maduro (very nice, good spice, a little dry) I took out my pipe and filled it with bourbon soaked burly leaf. Jeff had a Fonseca 10-10 Maduro and a lonsdale size Arturo Fuente natural. He said he liked the Arturo Fuente, which I thought was nicely aromatic, more than the Fonseca. Then something interesting happened.

The Canadian man to my left, dressed like million dollars, said to Barman Jake,"want to trade me for a Cuban hand-rolled?" Jake took a look at the cigar. He took a step forward. He looked around the bar."What is it?" he asked, half to himself. The man to my left, a Canadian, quieted his voice answering, "it was made by a roller in a state factory from his own daily ration. Do you want to trade?" Jake looked around the bar again. Looked at the cigar again, and said,"I can't but maybe one of my guests would want to trade you." The Canadian glanced at me, and I offered, "I'll trade you an Arturo Fuente" and the deal was done. I have to admit that until last night I thought the Cuban cigar legends were exactly that, legends. I always thought they couldn't be that much better than Honduran, Dominican, or Jamaican cigars. But I was wrong. What I had last night was the most expertly rolled cigar I have ever smoked. It was like the ocean and soft leather and chocolate and caramel and cinnamon and warm Caribbean breezes and fresh coconut juice and the brown thighs of Cuban women. I wish I had the vocabulary to describe that cigar. All I can say is that the Cuban cigar I smoked last night was the telos of the tobacco leaf.

The last thing I drank while at the Occidental was a glass of the best rum I have ever tasted. Now Bacardi used to be a client of mine back when I was an ad man, and I have been loyal to them, only drinking their product on those extremely rare occasions when I drink rum. So, as I was smoking a Cuban cigar I thought I'll have a Cuba Libre, but Barman Jake had other ideas. He said, "Why would you want to ruin rum with sweet soda?" and I didn't have a good answer. He asked what rum I'd like, and I said something about only drinking Bacardi. Now, as I mentioned above, Barman Jake enjoyed offering samples. So it seemed only right that I taste every sample offered. I tasted many before I tasted the best rum ever and ordered a glass of the best rum ever. Zaya. It is from Trinidad & Tobago and it is excellent. It was like drinking a chocolatey cane syrup, but it wasn't syrupy.

After we left the Occidental I noticed we were on Kearny Street, home of my fave Vietnamese place (It is one or two doors down from the House of Nanking and 10,000 times better). The most amazing imperial rolls I have ever tasted. I am not kidding about this. They are amazing! And super inexpensive. I implored Jeff to go get some with me, but he begged off, claiming work the next morning. So, he hopped on BART and went back to the East Bay,and, well, I didn't want to eat imperial rolls alone, so I walked down to the train station (Oh! I walked by the Hotel Utah on my way to the train station. So many good memories of that place.) and came home. It was a good night. I haven't done anything like that in a couple of years. Didn't really have the time or money for it last night, but it was fun, and my grades this semester are good enough that I can risk one wild-ish night.

Oh! News: Jeff changed churches. He is CMA now (Yes, he does change denominations often, but they are all very like each other.) and is pursuing ordination. And I think he is going to go duck hunting with me. He has a boat!

A Hike

On Saturday morning last I lead Cub Scout Pack 204 on a three mile hike to the lime kilns at Henry Cowell Redwoods State Park. It was a much fun experience. The kilns provided most of the lime for cement used in the construction of San Francisco. They closed down in 1919. The route we took was gorgeous. It was like being in a forest not touched by man since creation. Except, 90 years ago there wasn't a tree within 2 miles of the kilns. They had all been felled to feed the fires. It is amazing how it has grown back.

After the hike Anselm and I stopped by the book store at St. Lawrence Orthodox Church to by some charcoal for the censer. I use the smallest diameter disks they sell and break them in half but they are still too big. The longest service I do at home is Matins and the charcoal is still burning when I am done. I tried to break it into even smaller pieces but that just makes a mess. Also, Anselm got an Icon of the Descent of the Holy Spirit. He was pretty excited. As he said "it's my first major feast icon!"

Then we stopped by our fave grocery store and bought lunch: Figs, peaches, and Pirate Booty.

Then we drove home and I wrote several pages on the history of wine (FYI: Archaeology supports the Noah planting a vineyard story. All evidence points to the earliest wine making operations being in what is now SE Turkey/NE Iran, which is in the vicinity of Mt. Ararat.)

Picture: Anselm is on the right. They are standing in front of one of the lime kilns.

Satuday Sound Track: Decmber 1963

The very last hit by the Four Seasons was the first of their songs I remember hearing. In 1978, when I was just 8 years old, someone gave me a K-Tel LP of disco hits. One of the songs on the LP was December 1963. It was my favorite song on the record.

The song had been originally released in 1975 on "Who Loves You" and was on the first Four Seasons album to feature someone other than Frankie Valli singing most of the lead vocals. (Valli had lost much of his hearing to otosclerosis, since repaired by surgery.) It was the biggest hit the Four Seasons ever had.

Biggest Christmas Ever: Prologue (draft 2)

I'm not going to put the whole book on this blog. But I thought, maybe, Gentle Reader, you might be interested in what I am writing besides history papers.

--------

Prologue
The Last Normal Christmas


Max's Dad, his Uncles Jake and Raul, and his brother Ben were watching a football game in the living room while Max, his Mom, aunts Katie and Piper, his older sister Claudia and twin sister Leslie, and Max's cousins were in the den, what his sister, Claudia liked to call "the parlour" eating popcorn and waiting to open the presents under the tree. The only person in Max's family who wasn't there was his Great Great Aunt Irene. They had already had Christmas dinner, pizza, and were eager to get to the presents.

It wasn’t really Christmas but that’s the way it was in Max's family. They never really had Christmas on Christmas because someone always had to be somewhere else on December 25. As far back as Max could remember, they always had Christmas at least a week early. Which is why Great Great Aunt Irene wasn't here. She was very old and very old-fashioned and would not celebrate Christmas one day early. Also, she lived in the big city a couple of hours away.

Finally, Aunt Katie began chanting – "We want Christmas. We want Christmas" – all of the kids joined in and marched into the living room trying to get Dad, and Ben and the uncles to come open presents. But there were still 8 minutes left in the football game, and as everyone knows, that means there was really half an hour to go until the game was over. So they went back into the den and waited.

Finally the game was over, the television was turned down (but not off) and the football fans joined the others in the den. Dad handed the family Bible to Uncle Jake, saying, “You read it this year” so Uncle Jake read…

And it came to pass in those days, that there went out a decree from Caesar Augustus, that all the world should be taxed. (And this taxing was first made when Cyrenius was governor of Syria.) And all went to be taxed, every one into his own city. And Joseph also went up from Galilee, out of the city of Nazareth, into Judaea, unto the city of David, which is called Bethlehem….

Finally, he got to the last line about the shepherds glorifying God and Mom said, “Okay! The spiritual stuff is over let's get to the important part” and we all yelled THE PRESENTS!!!! Everyone except Claudia. For a second, Max thought she looked sad.

But if you want to talk about sad, that happened after the presents had been opened. Max kind of felt like, "is that it? Is that all I get?" But he really did get a lot. His presents included the action figures he wanted, and a new rocket set, two new video games, a scooter, socks (from his Mom) and a lot of candy. But he still wanted more. And then he felt bad for wanting more instead of being happy with the things he got. He even cried a little bit, and Aunt Katie said “Why is Max crying?” Max quickly answered for his mother, “I’m just so happy! I love Christmas.” But Claudia gave Max a strange look. She knew. In fact, she felt the same way Max felt.

The next few days were blah. There were still Christmas specials on TV, and there were people saying “Merry Christmas”, and the Wilcox family kept their Christmas tree up. But for the whole family Christmas had been over for six days by the time Christmas Eve arrived. Between the night they opened presents and Christmas Max zoomed around the neighborhood on his new scooter, played video games, and mainly tried not to be bored.

And then on Christmas morning there were stockings to open. But it wasn’t a big deal to Max. He just woke up and found a stocking at the foot of his bed. His house didn't have a fireplace at which to hang stockings, so the foot of the bed had to do. In the stocking were some colored pencils, more candy (but Max was already tired of candy), and a new belt. He was happy to get the presents. He didn’t feel the disappointment he had felt 7 days earlier. But he didn’t feel excited either. This was really just another day, but with a new belt, some colored pencils and some more candy. To tell you the truth, he was happy Christmas was finally over. For Max, and the whole Wilcox family, the last week had seemed like a strange time, Christmas was over but not really. It was like a zombie Christmas they couldn't get rid of. None of them liked it very much, but its what they always did and habits are hard to break.

Saturday Soundtrack: Singing Theology

I was six years old and it was a Sunday night service and we sang this song. My Dad, one of the the best preachers in the Pentecostal style (I've heard hundreds of them so I think I am a fair judge.) used it as the launching pad for a sermon on the resurrection of the dead and the second coming of our Lord. I remember his exact words. As the last word of the song was being drawn out and before the last last note faded away his voice rose above all the others and he said...

"O Church, don't think this isn't true. Don't think for a minute it isn't true. The Angel asked 'why are you standing there looking up? Jesus is coming back in the clouds the same way he left.' We have the assurance of the Apostle Paul that 'the Lord himself shall descend from heaven with a shout, with the voice of the archangel, and with the trump of God: and the dead in Christ shall rise first: Then we which are alive and remain shall be caught up together with them in the clouds, to meet the Lord in the air...'"

And he was off like a race horse at the sound of the bell.

I'm sure I was in the room many times when this song was being sung but that summer night I really heard it for the first time. It was like my ears were open in a way that has seldom been experienced since. And the song prepared me to hear the words of the angel and of St. Paul that my Dad was going to quote at the start of his sermon.

I have never forgotten. It is still my hope. Sometimes, on warm nights like tonight I find myself humming this song. I think tomorrow, after the Divine Liturgy I'll teach it to my boys.





James Black, 1893 (Rev.20:12)

1. When the trumpet of the Lord shall sound, and time shall be no more,
And the morning breaks, eternal, bright and fair;
When the saved of earth shall gather over on the other shore,
And the roll is called up yonder, I’ll be there.
* Refrain:
When the roll is called up yonder,
When the roll is called up yonder,
When the roll is called up yonder,
When the roll is called up yonder, I’ll be there.
2. On that bright and cloudless morning when the dead in Christ shall rise,
And the glory of His resurrection share;
When His chosen ones shall gather to their home beyond the skies,
And the roll is called up yonder, I’ll be there.
3. Let us labor for the Master from the dawn till setting sun,
Let us talk of all His wondrous love and care;
Then when all of life is over, and our work on earth is done,
And the roll is called up yonder, I’ll be there.

Grad School, Volunteering, and Other Stuff

Beginning last week the amount of work I am doing in grad school has increased dramatically. For example, since last Sunday I've written a 6 page paper on the tribunate of Tiberius Gracchus, 3 pages on Athenian ostracism, 3 pages on the role of the Roman army in the enculturation of conquered peoples, 6 pages on the the 1st and 2nd century B.C. stresses on the Roman constitution, and still have due (on Sunday evening) an assignment on Greek drama during the age of Pericles. This is in addition to 400 pages of assigned reading. I am having a blast! I'm thinking about applying for a fellowship so I can work on a Ph.D. Oh, wait. There's no money in this. What am I thinking?

Today I volunteered to serve on my city's Independent Police Auditing Commission. Essentially, the commission advises the judge who investigates police misconduct and makes recommendations to the City Council and Chief of Police. I don't know how many people have volunteered but the judge will only pick 10 people. I hope she picks me. It sounds like a very fun job and I have a feeling it comes with doughnuts and coffee.

I sent a book proposal to an agent a couple of days ago. I keep checking my email but haven't heard anything yet. Almost as soon as I sent the proposal I thought of a dozen changes I should have made. O well, if this agent doesn't like the proposal, I'll make the changes before I send it to the next agent.

Well, I have a door jamb to repair and kids to take care of tomorrow, and won't have time to write those pages on Greek drama tomorrow, so I better get to work on it now.

Oh, one more thing. I took Basil Wenceslas and Anselm Samuel to Powell's late in the afternoon today. Anselm got something very strange. It was a soft drink with the following name: "Looks Like Orange Tastes Like Grape". It lived up to its name.

What I Heard at the Vigil Tonight

The Gospel reading at the vigil tonight, the Festal Vigil for the Feast of Ss. Peter and Paul, was the last bit of the Gospel of John. And what I heard was Jesus asking Peter three times, "Do you love me?" And it occurred to me, "Three times. That's the same number of times Peter denied Jesus. Wow! Jesus just helped Peter repent. He perfectly met Peter's need. He does that for me, too." And what up to that point had been for me, at the end of a long hot day, a difficult service to pay attention to, became like heaven. Even now, after being home for a while, it seems like the words of that Gospel reading are glowing in my mind.

Also, if anyone from Ss. Peter and Paul Antiochian Orthodox Church in Ben Lomand, California is reading this, Happy Feast Day! And thank you. Yours was the first Orthodox parish I ever attended. It was a vespers service and it began to answer all the questions that had been piling up for several years. Thank you.

A Memory

The other day my oldest son, Devon reminded me of the time I shot an oppossum. I had totally forgotten about it. But he was little then, maybe 4 or 5 years old and it stands out in his memory.

I was living with 3 other men (it was shortly after I divorced my 1st wife) in a big ranch house in Cupertino. I didn't care much for the house or the City of Cupertino (They wouldn't let me replace the lawn with a vegetable garden nor build a shooting range in the back yard) about the only things about the house I liked were the apricot tree in front yard and the fig tree in the backyard. And behind the back yard was open space: Hills coverd in grasses, scrub oaks, and bays. On Independence Day we would climb the hill behind the house and watch fireworks all over Silicon Valley.

Every morning I would walk out to the back yard and check on the figs. I would say to my self, "oooo that one is almost ripe. I'll pick it tomorrow." But when I would go back the next morning it would be gone. This happened several times. My boys, Billy and Devon said they weren't eating the figs so I knew it must be an animal. One morning I went outside with my SKS (I sold it to a guy in Texas when California outlwed my particular configuration.) before dawn and waited. It wasn't long before the varmint made his appearance. It was an opossum.

I had only owned that particular rifle for a few weeks and had not fired it before. I knew the ammunition it fired, the 7.62 X 39mm Warsaw Pact cartridge was a little more power than I needed to kill an oppossum. I could have used my little .380 calibre Spansih Foreign Legion pistol, but I am a very bad shot with a handgun. You know the saying about the broad side of a barn? That applies to all cases of me shooting a pistol. So I shot the oppossum with my rifle.

The result was more than I expected. When I hunted squirrels and rabbits with a .22 LR there was always a squirrel or rabbit body to recover. When I hunted wild pigs with a 12 gauge shotgun the pig didn't go to pieces when hit by the buck shot. But the opossum was torn in twain by the projectile from my rifle. It was shocking and untidy but after that I did get to enjoy the figs from the tree.

I had not remembered this event for years. Not until Devon reminded me had I given it any thought. But it was, at the time, kind of a big deal. (Angry housemates.) It makes me wonder what else I have forgotten.

Review: A Taste of Ancient Rome

Ilaria Giacosa (Translator: Anna Herklotz), A Taste of Ancient Rome (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1992), 231 pages + illustrations, bibliography, and index. $29.95

Giacosa, a food-loving archaeologist from Switzerland, delights the reader with a zesty report from 1st century Roman kitchen. The food she describes is not the boiled grain of a soldier on campaign, nor is it the nearly unbelievable cuisine of the orgy (More candied flamingo tongue, anyone?). Rather, the food she describes is that Romans ate day in and day out, with maybe a couple of fancy meals on special occasions such as recipes from “business” occasions, when a patron would feed his clients, but those were not usually anything like Caligula’s orgies.

With plenty of quotes from the period, the book does more than just reveal to modern readers and eaters the culinary practices of the ancient Romans, it shows modern people how the ancient Romans lived. For example, this quote of Martial:

“Rise: Already the baker is selling breakfasts to the children
and the roosters crow everywhere with the first light of day.”

Here we learn that people of Rome were not just awake but out in the streets about their business at dawn; the bakers having risen even earlier to prepare their goods for their customers’ morning meals. But Martial is not alone in bearing witness to the diet and lifestyle of the Romans. Seneca, Cato, Apicius, Petronius, and Juvenal are all mined for gastronomic as well as agricultural insight: Olives were not merely grown, they had to be cured. Grapes were not merely harvested, they had to be crushed and turned into wine and vinegar. And we learn such fun trivia, via Pliny the Elder that foie gras (fat liver) was invented not by the French but by Italians, who force-fed figs to their geese. The livers were called by them, iucur ficatum, (figgy liver) a much more pleasing name than that chosen by the French.

Much is often made about the differences between ancient Romans and modern Americans. I recall hearing Donald Kagan say in a radio interview that a Roman statesman would consider the American constitution absurd and unworkable. (Why Kagan, a Greek specialist was commenting on the mind of a Roman statesman I do not know.) But Giacosa brings us a quote by Tacitus, describing the influence of Petronius, the taste maker of Nero’s Rome that indicates things might not be as different as Kagan said. Immediately, upon reading the description of Petronius’ personality and influence, the names of the taste-makers in my own San Francisco and Silicon Valley come to mind, as the description by Tacitus seems to fit them all to a T.

The glory of this book, which has a few minor type-setting errors, is the many sumptuous ancient Roman recipes. The recipes are easy to follow, are composed of ingredients available in any big city (or via mail order or the internet), and translated into modern measures. There is one problem however: Apples. Finding ancient varieties of apples, as far as I can tell, is impossible, and recipes that call for apples will be problematic. Figs, grapes, grains, and animals are all easy to find in forms not much changed from what was known in 1st century Rome. But Apples today are enormous and incomparably sweet to what the Romans knew.

A lesser glory of this book, perhaps a greater glory to an anthropologist, is the inclusion of modern versions of the ancient recipes. This handy inclusion not only makes for what are, generally, easier to make dishes, but are comforting in that they show the continuity of cultural memory in an age when things seem to change at the speed of light.

Home

Athanasia, Basil Wenceslas, Anselm Samuel, and I arrived at home about 5 hours ago. Several days ago we departed on a northern heading. We traveled up the Juniperro Serra Highway from San Jose to San Francisco (I love all the Spanish names in California.), where we crossed to Golden Gate Bridge, motored through the Rainbow Tunnel, and continued north on the Redwood Highway.

When we got to Cloverdale, which is one of the Best Small Towns in America, we spent the night on the worst motel bed ever. The mattress kept slipping off the box springs. I'm not kidding. Other thanthat it wasa pleasant stay and a treat for the boys, who love motels. We woke up late and when we gotin the car we adjusted course to the northwest and drove through the Anderson Valley on State Road 128. We stopped at Booneville for breakfast/lunch and encountered many wanna-be Rastafarians who had descended on the little town for a Raggae festival at the Apple Show grounds. (I wonder how many of those kids knows Bob Marley turned away from Rastafarianism and died an Orthodox Christian.) After a pleasant and leisurely drive through the Hendy Redwods and along the Navarro River we reached the Pacific Ocean and turned north on the PCH.

Along the way we took a short detour at the Philo Apple Farm and took a walk around. We met a very big friendly dog that wrestled the boys to the ground and decided I was his best friend. We saw an interesting, and rustic (it was made from old barrel hoops) oil lamp chanelier that might have applicationin the Orthodox Church. I hada short conversation with the farmer about diesel engines. She says she would like to run hers on grease from resturaunts but there is a bio-diesel company in the county that has contracts with every single resturaunt along 128. He buys it all.

We reached Russian Gulch about 2 p.m on Saturday and began to unpack all our supplies. Athanasia noticed I forgot to pack some essential cooking items, such as a knife and tongs. So she ran into a market in Ft. Bragg to buy them. While she was gone I set up the tent and got the campsite organized. That's when I noticed I forgot to pack my sleeping bag. So, when Athanasia returned to the campsite it was my turn to go to Ft. Bragg.

That night we read to the boys, and I read much of one of my school books. It was cold and foggy. I was glad I had a sleeping bag.

Sunday morning we said morning prayers (The long ones from the Jordanville prayerbook) and were joined by a Polish Catholic man who was camping near us. After prayers we ate breakfast, cleaned up after breakfast, and then I went into Medocino to an internet cafe to do homework. (I wrote and submitted a review of this book for my Roman history class.) While I was doing homework Athanasia and the boys were at the beach at the mouth of the little river that runs trough the gulch.

While they were at the beach and I was in Mendocino doing homework, the rest of our pary arrived. My god daughters and their parents came to spend a couple of days with us. It was muchfun to get to spend so much time with them. Anselm and basil play well with them. That night, when everyone went to bed, I did more reading for school beside the fire, while Athanasia read Ozma of Oz to the boys in the tent. When she grew too tired I took over for her.

On Monday I slept in and did not get out of bed. I was whiped out from lack of sleep the night before. I had two large lattes while doing my school work at the internet caffe. Each of them had 4 shots of espresso. I keep forgetting that I am not 20 anymore and caffiene really does a number on me now. So, Sunday night was miserable for lack of sleep.

WHile I slept on Monday morning, everyone else went to Glass Beach at the north end of Ft. Bragg. They came back to camp with lots and lots of sea glass. My god daughters' father found a collection of tiny blue glass beads. In the afternoon, we walked up to the beach at the mouth of the gulch again. That night we made smores. Actually, I think we made smores every night.

Tuesday morning, we went to Potuguese Beach (AKA Driftwood Beach) at the bottom of the Medocino Headlands. We had a nice lunch on the beach and the kids all played among the giant driftwood logs. Many years ago, when I was 12 years old and my nephew, Daniel was 9 my parents took us to that beach and we erected a wall of logs. The boys and my god daughters were too small for that kind of exhausting work, but theyhadfun nonetheless. Except for when Basil was stung by a jellyfish. But it was a mild reaction, causing only a scream and a rash on his leg. He had me make the sghn of the Cross on it ("Heal me, Daddy!) and he was back to playing in no time at all.

My god daughters' and their parents left for home after lunch but Athanasia and the boys and I stayed there by the water for a while longer. Then we went back to the tent for our last night. More reading to the boys. Sweet sleep.

This morning we broke camp and I took my first shower since Cloverdale. The north coast does not ever suffer water shortages, thus the shower at Russian Gulch State Park was like a warm hurricane. There was no flow governor on the showerhead so the water shout out of it like nothing I've seen in years. It was wonderful. I was not alone in the shower, though. An ariolimax columbianus. But he/she didn't bother me and I didn't bother him/her.

We drove back the way we went, mostly. We stopped at the Floodgate, a really good Mexican place just northwest of Philo for lunch/breakfast, and we stopped in Boonville so Athanasia could buy a 6-pack of her favorite beer at the brewery.

We stopped at Cloverdale for fuel and coffee and got back onthe Redwood highway, headed south this time. But we didn't take it all the way in to San Francisco. On other drives along this stretch of 101 we had noticed a giant building off across the Alexander Valley (at the Geyeserville exit) and had been curious about it. So today, we decided to drive across the valley and find out what it was. It was a beautiful drive through Geyserville and all the small wineries, but we were very dissapointed when we ascended the hill and discovered that the huge building was just an Indian casino. We didn't bother getting out of the car. Instead, we drove down to Healdsburg and got back on the Redwood Highway there.

When we crossed the Golden Gate Bridge heading into The City the fog was comming in and we couldn't see the tops of the towers. The boys thought that was very cool. We took another detour from our route in San Francisco and and stopped at La Boulange in Cole Valley to get the boys a little treat. Then we just drove on home to San Jose, where I was greeted by a tennant with a leak in her kitchen drain.

A Desecration and an Offering

This email from Bishop Benjamin of San Francisco and the Diocese of the West, Locum Tenens of the Diocese of Alaska:

Dear Very Reverend and Reverend Clergy of the Diocese of the West:

In light of all that happened the day before yesterday in Anchorage, I have to share a little miracle of sorts. It was something small, but it brought a tiny ray of light into my day and restored my faith in the goodness of people.

I was sitting this afternoon at the airport waiting for a flight back to San Francisco. I will be serving for Fr. Kirill Hartman this weekend and next. I received a call on my cell from a priest in Anchorage and we spoke briefly about the break-in and desecration of the cathedral. It was a quiet conversation but it was apparently overheard by a gentleman sitting in the lounge. A few minutes after, as he was about to leave, he came over to me and asked if I were a priest. I indicated I was a bishop. He apologized for hearing part of my previous conversation, but he could not help but hear about the church and especially the burning of the Gospel Book. He then handed me a small roll of bills, $40 in all, smiled and turned to leave. I was stunned by the goodness of this one man. So, there are, in these dark days, still wonderful people who can appear as angels of light when we least expect it.

+Bishop Benjamin

Cast is off and other stuff

1. I don't know if I've mentioned it here or not but Basil Wenceslas broke his arm when he fell at a playground a few weeks a go. He's been a a cast since then. Today the cast cam off and he was allowed in the pool. He is so happy. I, too, am glad it came off. At least once ever other day he managed to hit me with it, always accidentally, and hurt me pretty badly usually.

2. We leave for a few days in Russian Gulch on Friday evening. It has become a family tradition. This will be our third time to go camping there.

3. I have to get two weeks worth of school work done before we leave on Friday.

4. Athanasia and I are thinking about starting our own property management firm. It isn't something either of us has wanted to do, but it seems to be the direction in which providence has taken us. We will talk about it some more when we are on vacation and will begin laying out the plan over the next few weeks.

5. Anselm Samuel begun Latin dance lessons last week. He has two hours of instruction each Thursday and practices at home. My main goal is for him to develop a sense of timing. I think that everything else he has been involved in, because it was performance oriented, was too much pressure for him. This is social dancing and he says it is fun. So far he has learned the basic step to Cha Cha Cha.

6. Devon Abram, my oldest son has changed his plan. He is no longer going to cooking school to be a baker but instead is enrolling in San Jose City College in a few days to study linguistics. He wants to be a language teacher.

Well, I think that's all. I have to work on a paper explaining the history and development of the Athenian constitution, actually, that isn't right. I have to finish the whole thing tonight. So, I'd better get to work now.

Forgiveness

One thing I have encountered lately is having to deal with someone who hates me. There is no escaping having to deal with this person. It is a matter of duty, surely, but also of love. It is difficult but, I know, others have had to deal with similar circumstances. Anyway, one thing that amazes me is this persons belief that I think I am perfect. Far far from it.

One of the reasons I became Orthodox is because my lack of perfection. The odiousness of my many sins was too much for me to bear. I needed, and still need, constant rescue. Every day, morning and evening, Orthodox Christians acknowledge our multitudinous failings and ask for Divine help in doing better. All day long we pray "Lord Jesus Christ, Son of God, have mercy on me, a sinner." Several times a day I need to stop everything I am doing and say...

"Lord our God, good and merciful, I acknowledge all my sins which I have committed every day of my life, in thought, word and deed; in body and soul alike. I am heartily sorry that I have ever offended thee, and I sincerely repent; with tears I humbly pray thee, O Lord: of thy mercy forgive me all my past transgressions and absolve me from them. I firmly resolve, with the help of Thy Grace, to amend my way of life and to sin no more; that I may walk in the way of the righteous and offer praise and glory to the Name of the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit."

It seems like the older I get I remember more and more of my errors and transgressions from the past. I do not think I am perfect. I don't even think I am a relatively good man. Embarassingly enough, I know many pagans who are more virtuous than I am. But this person thinks I am arrogant in my supposed perfection, and it is an obstacle in our necessary relationship. I wish I knew what to do about it.

Clive and Me

C.S. Lewis smoked a pipe. That isn't why I smoke a pipe, but it makes me happy to know Lewis and I have that in common. One thingwe don't have in common, but I wish we did have in common is Holy Orthodoxy. (Well, I mean, as far as I know. After all, if he is in heaven he is, obviously, more Orthodox than I.) His books, especially the Chronicles of Narnia are, I think, a major reason why when I encountered the Orthodox Christian faith I knew it was true. Lewis had laid the foundation for Orthodoxy.

I suppose there are reasons he chose the Anglican Church over Orthodoxy but I don't know what they were. I suppose there might not have been much of an Orthodox community for him to join in Britain in those days. Perhaps, if there was one, it existed in something of an ethnic ghetto. I don't know. But from Christus Victor soteriology (There was substitutionary atonement in the book, too. I'm not denying it.) in in The Lion the Witch and the Wardrobe to baptismal regeneration and Icons in The Voyage of the Dawn Treader, to the power of asceticism in The Silver Chair, to a patristic uderstanding of Heven and Hell in The Last Battle I see the Orthodox Faith.

I know people have commented and made jokes about Wheaton College hosting the C.S. Lewis Center, since Lewis smoked and drank, but I am more surprised that they house the collection in light of his Orthodox-ish theology, which can not be squared with Wheaton's Zwinglian official beliefs. Who knows? Maybe, it is God's will that Lewis introduce Wheaton to Orthodoxy.

The Gods of Ancient Rome: A Book Review

Reviewed work: Robert Turcan, The Gods of Ancient Rome: Religion in Everyday Life from Archaic to Imperial Times, p. i-v + 1-180+ illustrations, New York: Routledge, $95 hardcover

Beginning by quoting ancient sources, and readers who like many quotes will appreciate this volume, the author sets out to make his argument that the Romans were not religious in the same way modern people are religious. They did not love their gods. They did not get enthused about their religion. In short, they were almost like businessmen making a deal with their gods. Part of the reason for this lack of emotion on the part of worshipers seems to be that the worshipers didn't always know to whom they were praying, "whether thou be a god or goddess" and "unless you prefer some other name" often being part of the priests' prayers. As much as anything, Turcan explains Roman religion as being not much different from a Californian's behavior in small claims court: Wait your turn, be quiet, don't offend the judge, use the right words, and you'll get what you want. The citizen doesn't have to love the judge, doesn't have to think the judge's authority is legitimate, and doesn't have to think the judge is particularly wise. According to Turcan, the Romans' attitude toward the gods was, likewise, almost completely transactional and utilitarian. Thus, Turcan writes almost nothing of Roman theology (e.g. what the Romans believed about their gods), but deals almost entirely with Roman piety (e.g. how the Romans practiced their religion).

After laying the foundation of Roman practicality in religion, Turcan goes onto explain the pietistic actions of the Romans in three main spheres of life: The family, the countryside (after all, Rome was an agrarian society), and the state. Beginning with a brief naming of many of the gods and demons who look after or are concerned with various household items, such as plates, doors, and hand tools, the author continues his account of Roman household piety at the start of the day, when the master of the house rises and ponders his dreams to determine if one or anther of the gods might have spoken to him during the night. From that point the author follows the typical pious Roman though all of his daily rituals, which were many. An interesting connection Turcan makes is between the cult of the ancestors and the recitation of the Romulus myth by the mistress of the house. This serves as a springboard, not so much in the construction of the book, but in the mind of this reader, for the leap from a household piety to a state piety.

The Roman state religion, according to Turcan, is nothing less than an extension of the household religion, which is infused with the idea of duty. Many of the rituals and practices of the later state religion developed directly from private household religion. For example, the deification of dead emperors in Roman state religion can be seen as growing out of the Roman households' ancestor worship. Duty to dead ancestors was amplified to duty to dead emperors.

Finally, after dealing with the Romans' practice of their own indigenous religion, Turcan, who is a professor of Roman history at the Sorbonne, turns his attention to the Roman's practice of exotic religions from the east and south. He might have done a better job dealing with this aspect of the Roman religious experience, as his explanation for why many of the ordinarily punctilious Romans all but abandoned their traditional gods and cultic practices for foreign gods and cults, is not very convincing. But, answering the question "why?" is not something Turcan set out to do. This book is about "what", and Turcan acquits himself well in this regard.

If there is one problem with the book it is the sometimes unusual word choices, such as the use of the word "bigotry" when discussing Cicero's opinion of auguries, and unfortunate phrase constructions, such as "case of the sacred chickens", which distract the reader from the matter at hand. I don't know that blame for this problem can be laid at the author's feet though, since the original language of this book is French and the English translation was prepared by a bureaucrat in the French Ministry of Culture. Nevertheless, this is a very engaging book, with arguments constructed from primary sources and archaeological findings, there being just the right amount of quotes and photographs to support conclusions. While not every historian dealing with Rome will want this book, those who want to know how the Romans practiced their religion can do a lot worse than reading this book.

(Photo: Relief of the Roman goddess Vesta and her virgin priestesses, Palermo Mueum, Italy)

What I'm Going to Make as Soon as this Fast is Over

Okay, I understand the reason for this fast (After Pentecost the Apostles prepared for thier evangelistic missions. We do the same by fasting and praying.) but I'm really having trouble getting into it this year. All I can think about are lamb shanks. Usually, I braise them in a red wine reduction, but I think as soon as this fast is over (on the Feast of Ss. Peter & Paul, June 29) I am going to have to make...

Lamb Shanks with White Beans

For lamb shanks
4 lamb shanks (about 1 pound each)
2 tablespoons olive oil
1 medium onion, chopped coarse
1 medium carrot, chopped coarse
1 celery rib, chopped coarse
8 garlic cloves, chopped coarse
3 1/2 cups Bordeaux or other full-bodied red wine
4 cups chicken broth
1 tablespoon tomato paste
2 fresh thyme sprigs

For gremolata
3 tablespoons chopped fresh parsley leaves (preferably flat-leafed)
1 teaspoon freshly grated lemon zest (about 1 lemon)
3 garlic cloves, minced

For beans
2 tablespoons extra-virgin olive oil
2 small onions, chopped fine
2 small carrots, chopped fine
2 celery ribs, chopped fine
3 garlic cloves, minced
2 cups cooked white beans (preferably Great Northern or navy)
2 to 2 1/2 cups chicken broth
2 tablespoons unsalted butter
1 bay leaf
1 tablespoon unsalted butter
3 fresh tarragon sprigs


Make lamb shanks:
Pat lamb shanks dry and season with salt and pepper. In an 8-quart heavy flameproof casserole heat oil over moderately high heat until hot but not smoking and brown lamb shanks well in batches, transferring to a plate as browned. To casserole add onion, carrot, celery, and garlic and sauté until onion is softened. Add wine and simmer mixture, stirring occasionally, until liquid is reduced to about 3 cups. Return lamb shanks to casserole and stir in broth, tomato paste, and thyme. Bring liquid to a boil and simmer, covered, stirring and turning lamb shanks occasionally, 1 1/2 hours. Simmer mixture, uncovered, stirring occasionally, 1 hour more, or until lamb shanks are tender.

Make the gremolata while lamb is cooking:
In a small bowl stir together gremolata ingredients.

Make beans while lamb is cooking:
In a saucepan heat oil over moderately high heat until hot but not smoking and cook onions, carrots, celery, and garlic, stirring, 2 or 3 minutes, or until softened. Add beans, 2 cups broth, butter, and bay leaf and cook over moderate heat, stirring occasionally and adding enough remaining broth to keep beans moist and to reach a creamy consistency, about 30 minutes. Discard bay leaf and add half of gremolata and salt and pepper to taste.

Transfer lamb shanks to a plate and keep warm, covered with foil. Strain braising liquid through a sieve into a saucepan, discarding solids, and stir in butter and tarragon. Boil sauce, stirring occasionally, until thickened slightly. Strain sauce through sieve into a bowl and season with salt and freshly ground black pepper.
Sprinkle lamb shanks with remaining gremolata and serve with beans and sauce.


(Although under U.S. law a recipe can not be copyrighted, I do want to mention that I got this recipe from Epicurious.)

A Birthday, Some Recipes, and New Tires

Last Saturday was my son Devon's 21st birthday. It was a tough one since the same week marked one year since the death of Billy, Devon's older brother and my oldest son. So, there was sadness and and happiness mingled together.

I planned a surprise party for Devon. He is part of a Bible study at at protestant church, so I got all those people to come. My brothers and my sister were there. Actually, my sister, because she lives in a very large house that was designed entertaining let us have the party at her house. Also, several of Devon's cousins were there. His fave cake is cheese cake so I had one of those made for him by Sugar, Butter, Flour.

Everyone brought the ingredients to make a cocktail for Devon to try. He tasted a Campari Cocktail (2 parts gin, 1 part Campari, shaken w/ ice, strained into cocktail glass, twist of lemon), a BBC, a brain hemorrhage, a watermelon collins, and some others. He especially liked my wife's Gin and Tonic made with Tanqueray and Fever Tree tonic water. Devon only tasted each drink and didn't finish any of them. Wise. All the recipes (Many of them were illustrated by the party attenders!) for the drinks he tasted, as well as happy birthday wishes from all the people celebrating with him were written in a commemorative book.

Today I bought new tires for the Cruiser. Michelin. I don't know why exactly, but all the people I know who are really into cars say the only tires worth having are French or Italian. The store I went to didn't sell Pirelli (which I had on the Acura Integra) so I went with French. But that's okay. Michelin is what I've always used on the Cruiser and it is used to those. It might not have reacted well to a change like that. You know, it's like serving Coke to a Pepsi drinker. Hmmm. Now that I think of it, maybe the reason Pirelli and Michelin are recommended has more to do with those calendars than with tire quality, after all, the people who swear by the tires are men. I mean, do BF Goodrich and Yokohama even have calendars? Let alone, world famous limited edition collector item calendars?

There is one thing I'm not sure about. I usually buy tires with 800 hardness ratings (When I had the Integra and regularly drove over 110 mph I used to care about speed and traction ratings, too. I don't worry about those with the Cruiser.) so I'll get 90,000 to 100,000 miles out of them before I need to replace them. Unfortunately, this store, the store with the best prices, only special-orders tires with hardness ratings up where I like them. So, because I am always pressed for time, and because I have a long road trip coming up soon, I got the off-the-shelf 740 rated tire. It will be interesting to see how long it lasts compared to the 800s I just got rid of.

For dinner tonight I made something my mother always called Summer Salad. I diced several tomatoes, two cucumbers, half a red onion and dressed it with mirin. Anselm Samuel and Basil Wenceslas didn't eat it (they hate onion) but Devon Abram had several servings. That made me happy. He isn't really used to the way we eat yet, especially during the fasts. I'm very glad to have made something he likes.

Stanley Tucci's Wardrobe

I have seen four great movies about food. Two of them brought tears to my eyes. It is true that both of those films starred Stanley Tucci wearing beautiful clothes, but the clothes are not what brought tears to my eyes. If you have an opportunity to see Julie & Julia or Big Night, I implore you, do not let the opportunity pass you by. Each film deals truthfully and elegantly with food. Each film portrays some of the beauties of a past era. Neither is to be missed. Aside from the food and atmosphere, each of these films featured 1950s men's clothing worn by Stanley Tucci. If I were ever to open a haberdashery I think I should only sell clothes of that period and call the shop Stanley Tucci's Wardrobe.

The B (Women and Children in Greek Antiquity)

I got a B. I hate getting a B. Not as much as I loathe an A minus, but I hate it. Regardless of how much I hate it that is the grade the paper received. (Thankfully it is only worth 4% of my final grade.) Below, you will find the paper that earned the B. When I wrote it I thought it was an A paper. Now, having read it over and over again, I see why it is only a B paper. I wish this blog program would let me import the Word document as I typed it, for the footnotes are a work of beauty. They do not appear in this format.


---------------------

Women and Children in Greek Antiquity


By
Billy Matthew Karnes


For
Prof. Stanley Carpenter
American Military University
HIST531 K001 Spr 10


It is impossible to say what the condition of women and children was in Greek antiquity without specifying which women and which children. The conditions of Spartan mothers were very different from the conditions of Corinthian prostitutes, or Athenian merchant women. Likewise, the living conditions of pre-pubescent boys were different from those of pre-pubescent girls. This paper will examine lives lead by women and children in various circumstances.

The first peril a child in ancient Greek society had to face was the risk of exposure. The kyrios of every household had the absolute right to decide whether or not to let a babe live or to expose it. It is not known what percentage of babies were exposed, but there is evidence to suggest more girl babies than boy babies met that pitiful end.

If a child did survive past infancy it was soon segregated according to sex. In cities other than Sparta, girls, at least free-born daughters of citizens, destined for marriage in the upper classes, would be taught household tasks in the gynaikonitis, out of which they emerged only infrequently. The work skills - let there be no mistake about it, every woman in ancient Greek society worked - taught to young girls were the same as those employed by her mother: carding wool, spinning and dying yarn, weaving, making clothes, cooking, and managing slaves. They would also be taught to read and do basic math. These skills were taught to upper class girls to make them a attractive brides, and help their fathers form or strengthen alliances with other upper class men. In most of Greek society, girlhood ended at or shortly after menarche when girls were married and assumed the role of oikodespoina , which, being translated, is mistress-of-the-house.

There was one outlet for girls of the gynaikonitis, however. Girls were allowed to serve as kanepharos, basket-bearers during religious ceremonies and processions , offer libations , and carry the sacrificial knife. In Athens, exceptionally "well-born" girls were granted the honor of grinding the grain for sacrifices and serving in the temples of Athena and Artimis. Poor girls who did not become prostitutes learned a trade or how to read that they might help their parents in their work.

Greek boys, except for in Sparta where the law protected boys from pederasts, were buggered by men and this was thought of as beneficial. Other than that, Greek boys, at least, all sons of citizens were taught to read and work. They were also taught how to fight to defend the polis. Boys from less well off families were taught to work in their parents trade.

The state of women in Greek society was not very good, and women, even citizen-born wives of the social elite were thought of as little better than slaves, who's entire worth was found in their sex. Demosthenes, the prosecutor of Neaira made this clear when he said "We have hetairai for our pleasure, pallaki for the daily care of our bodies, and wives for legitimate children." Additionally, available to men there were pornai and flute girls, lower class prostitutes than the pallaki, who can be thought of as concubines or kept women.

Some Greek women were religious prostitutes. At Corinth in 446 B.C. Xenephon dedicated 100 girls to prostitute in the temple of Aphrodite. But it would be a great mistake to think only young girls and prostitutes were engaged in religious work. Women served as priestesses in temples and had exclusive control over the messages of the Oracle of Delphi.

Other Greek women were not elite ladies living in the gynaikonitis, nor prostitutes of whatever class entertaining men, nor priestesses of the gods and goddesses. Rather, they did physical work outside the home. Evidence of this is found on grave markers, some of which from the 4th century B.C. read as follows:

Phanastrate
midwife and
physician,
lies here.

This is the tomb
of the immigrant
Apollodorus'
daughter, Melitta,
a nurse.

Mania, the grocer
whose shop is near
the spring.

Additionally, many freed female slaves left records of their occupations. They included sesame seed seller, grocer, harpist, perfume seller, woolworker, and wet nurse. Though there is not much evidence for it or against it, in the countryside women must have been engaged in agricultural work since it is the universal pattern that farm wives help their husbands.

Sparta was an exception. There women, the highest to the lowest did all manner of work, though their most important work was birthing children for the polis. Their preparation for this work began in childhood when they were strengthened and toughened up by strenuous physical activity. Spartan women also mated (married seems to be the wrong word to describe what Spartans did) later than other Greek women. Whereas the women of Athens and Corinth and the other poleis were married shortly after menarche and immediately began trying to conceive sons, even though such early first pregnancies were detrimental to their health and decreased the likelihood of a successful pregnancy and delivery ; the women of Sparta married after they were fully mature and more likely to have a healthy pregnancy and delivery.

Finally, though most Greek women died at about the age of thirty-five after giving birth to an average of ten children and watching six of them die , some did live past the child-bearing years. This enabled them to serve as certain types of priestesses, and also, especially if they were widows, opened up more of the public sphere to them, as they became managers of the family oikos.

In conclusion, life for ancient Greek children and women was short and full of hardship.



Bibliography

Demand, N., Birth, Death, and Motherhood in Classical Greece (Baltimore: The Johns Hopkins University Press, 1994)

Dillon, M., Girls and Women in Classical Greek Religion (New York & London: Routledge, 2002)

Guhl E. & Koner, W., Everyday Life of the Greeks and Romans (New York: Crescent Books, 1989)

Ide, A., Women in Greek Civilization Before 100 B.C. (Mesquite, Texas: Ide House, 1983)

Martin, T., Ancient Greece: From Prehistoric to Hellenistic Times (New Haven & London: Yale University Press, 1996)

Massey, M., Women in Ancient Greece and Rome (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1988)

Plutarch, On Sparta (New York: Penguin Classics, 2005)

Applicable Fiction

Éothain: "Do we walk in legends or on the green earth in the daylight?"
Aragorn: "A man may do both. For not we but those who come after will make the legends of our time. The green earth, say you? That is a mighty matter of legend, though you tread it under the light of day!"

Saturday Soundtrack: Do Your Duty

Bettye LaVette is more famous for the song "He Made A Woman Out of Me" but the first song of hers I ever heard was "Do Your Duty". I was living in Tampa in the early 1980s. I remember hanging out with a couple of my cousins and their girlfriends when this song came on the radio. The second time I heard this song was when I was working at SF Weekly, so that must have been 1998. I was in a night club in San Francisco's Transbay Terminal. (The nightclub isn't there anymore.) The girl I was with was someone I met at John Lee Hooker's Boom Boom Room the night before. (John Lee was still alive then.) It was her scene more than mine. Though my business card got me into all the best bars and nightclubs I was, really, a navy blazer man, even then. I just couldn't get down with jook joint in a bus station, not even with a crazy not-quite-dressed-enough gray-eyed mullato girl. Not even for those fabulous chicken wings one of the other customers brought from home to share with whoever turned up that night. The girl was dangerous. The wings were good. The music was classic R&B. But I had a book waiting for me at home.

The diet

I struggle with my weight. Even as a child I was overweight. Even when I was in the infantry and excercizing HARD two or three times a day I had to watch my weight. In the past 10 years I've tried three different weight loss diets: Wieght Watchers, South BEach, and the HMR diet. They all failed for what I think of as the same reason: THey were complicated and required a lot of planning.

About 2 weeks ago I read an article about suger and other carbohydrates, that medical researchers are beginning to think that all the sugar and grain Americans eat might be killing us, that the baccon on a BLT might be better for us than the bread that olds it all together.

So I started thinking about that. And I mentioned the storyto my wife who told me about a fired of hers who used to struggle with her weigh until she got reid of all sugar and grain from her diet. Now the friend is svelte and healthy. So I thought about that, too.

And I decided to try to live without sugar and grain. The only exception to the grain rule is Commuion and an occasional bowl of oatmeal. There is no exception to the sugar rule. I don't eat honey. I don't eat maple syrup. I don't even eat sweet fruit, such as oranges, apples, and plums. (Olives and tomatoes are okay). Also, alcohol consumption has been limited to red wine, and no more than a quart of that per day.

So, what do I eat? Mainly, roasted meats and vegetables, boiled potatoes, eggs, beans, and raw vegetables. I eat as much as I want. I eat all the high fat foods (e.g. butter, milk, cheese, and olive oil) I want. And it is much much easier than keeping track of calories or points like the commercial diets wanted me to do. I will not lie and say it has been easy. The craving for bread and pasta was pretty bad the first week. After that it was much deminished. Now I don't even think of it, unless I am in a coffee shop and see a croisant in the display case. I should mention this: it is a little bit inconvenient not being able to eat any prepared foods at all. I mean, if it comes ready to heat and serve you can safely bet it has sugar, corn, and wheat it it.

So, what are the results after two weeks? I have lost weight and, this surprised me, I feel less sluggish and more alert.

Oh, would I recommend this diet for everyone? No. I have unusually low cholestorol. It hovers around 90 and my "good" colesterol number is two or three times my "bad" cholsterol number. I suppose if I had high cholestorol a diet like mine might be dangerous. But it is working for me.

Of Snowpacks

Anyone who's read this blog over the years knows my concern for the snow pack. Well today I read that the Sierra snow pack is 167% of "normal". This is some of the best news I've heard in a decade. I'm very happy. I guess some of the farmers aren't happy but, seriously, are farmers ever happy?

One of my favorite days

Today is the commemoration of the third finding of the head of St. John the Forerunner. Every year on this day I pray for the current guardian of St. John's head. It must be a difficult job.

Once a year is not often enough.

Woe, to you, O my darkened soul!
Your life is stained by depravity and laziness;
your folly makes you shun all thought of death.
How complacent you remain!
How can you flee the awesome thought of Judgment Day?
When will you change your way of life?
On that day your sins will rise against you.
What will your answer be then?
Your acts will condemn you; your deeds will expose you.
The time is at hand, O my soul.
Turn to the good and loving Savior!
Beg Him to forgive your malice and weakness, as you cry in faith:
“I have sinned, O Lord, I have sinned against You,
but I know Your love for all mankind.//
O good Shepherd, call me to enjoy Your lasting presence on Your right hand!”

-Aposticha from Vespers for Sunday of Meatfare/Sunday of the Last Judgment

Chanting

I am being trained to be a reader in the Orthodox Church. So far, the best part of it has been reading the books I was told to buy. Every Tuesday and Thursday I drop Basil Wenceslas off at Kidspark and take Anselm Samuel to LOA, which meets at a church in in SanJose. The church, which is very large, has a cafe. I sit in in the cafe and pray the Hours and Matins from my copy of the Horologion while Anselm is with the other kids doing science and history.

So far, during services at St Nicholas Church I've been allowed to read the life of St. Mary of Egypt, chant the 1st and 3rd hours, and chant the Prayers after Communion. I kind of thought it would be easy, but chanting, I've discovered, is more difficult than singing. I enjoy being useful.

Merry Ascension!

The Lord has been taken up into heaven, that he may send the Advocate to the world. The heavens have prepared his throne; clouds his ascent. Angels marvel to see a human high above them. The Father receives him whom he holds eternally in his bosom. The Holy Spirit orders all his Angels, ’Lift up our gates, you rulers’. All you nations, clap your hands: for Christ has gone up where he was before.

Lord, at your Assumption the Cherubim were amazed as they contemplated you, the God who is seated upon them, ascending on the clouds; and we glorify you, for your mercy is kind. Glory to you!

As we see your exaltation on the holy mountains, O Christ, the splendour of the Father’s glory, we hymn the appearance, formed of light, of your countenance; we worship your sufferings, we honour your Resurrection, as we glorify your glorious Assumption. Have mercy on us.

Lord Christ, giver of life, as your Apostles saw you borne up on clouds, filled with lamentations of tears of dejection, grieving they said, ’Master, do not make us your servants orphans, whom through pity you have loved as you are compassionate; but, as you promised, send us your all-holy Spirit to guide our souls with light’

From Vespers for the Feast of the Ascensionof the Lord

A day of getting ready

Today's theme is "Getting Ready". I've been getting uniforms ready for the Scout-o-Rama tomorrow. I've been getting apartments ready for their new residents. I've been getting meals ready to eat, boys ready for life, paint ready for painters,and the pool ready for swimmers. It reminded me of this song:

Forgiveness

It just dawned on me that it is impossible to forgive unless we have been hurt.

I Miss Her

A funny thing I did.

Tonight, a friend reminded me of something I did a long time ago. I was living with an Air Force officer back in 1997 or 1998 who was on loan to a secret part of the U.S. gov't. I asked him once if Congress knew what he did. He said "A couple of them do." He was that kind of guy. But you would never know it if you met him. Well, one day I needed to talk to him when he was at work but I didn't have his direct number. So, I called [location where secret go'vt pffice bldg was] and a sergeant answered the phone. I said, "Good morning, Sergeant. Could you put me through to Capt. [name] in [secret organization]? The sergeant said, "I'm sorry, sir. We have no one here by that name."

Having once been an enlisted man in the Army, I know a little bit how enlisted men think. So I changed my voice to sound a little bit angry and a little bit southern. I put a touch of Drill Sergeant inflection in it and I said, "Son, I am a colonel in the United States God Damn Marine Corps. You will put me though to Capt. [name] right now or I am comming down there!"

"Yes, Sir!"

The next voice I heard was my roommate who asked, "How did you get through to me at this number?" I was dying laughing as I told the story. He said, seriously, "He wasn't supposed to do that. What was his name."
I said, "Come on, he thought he was on the phone with an angry colonel, give the guy a break."
My roommate laughed then, too.